Captivity
by WistfulSin
Summary: Facing the turbulent duty of running a kingdom without the guidance of his mentor Hiei finds himself lost. The only being in Alaric in worse shape than him seems to be his new servant, Amon, a prisoner he opted to employ out of misplaced sentimentality. Neither of them quite knows what to make of their situations, but relying on one another becomes their best choice.
1. Noceur

This is a project of mine I've had stuck in my head for quite some time. It actually is based on a previous "What If" story of mine about Amon-Shinpi and Hiei meeting under the circumstances of her being given to him as a slave. I've changed up the premise quite a bit and have a different plan in mind if I keep the ball rolling on this one.

By the way, as a heads up, there won't be Mukuro hate in this. Yes, I'm aware she's dead and that's not everyone's favorite choice for how to handle a story but it's imperative for this one. She's not dead because I hate her. Promise.

* * *

Hiei stared into the cell with narrowed eyes.

"Release him."

"Sir, with all due respect I think you should reconsider. This one is charged with murder."

"We're all murderers. We're demons. I said release him." Hiei turned his hot glare onto the poor underling in charge of the prison.

He wasn't sure exactly what possessed him to make the command. Maybe it was the frailty of the pitiful waif's body. Maybe it was the fire lighting his eyes. Though, if he were going to be honest with himself (which he definitely would not be) it was likely the shock of flame red hair paired with the icy cobalt of the prisoner's gaze. The shackles on his wrists made for too close a similarity.

Maybe he just couldn't live without a redhead in his life to annoy the piss out of him.

And the glint in those eyes, framed by dark lashes, promised he'd find nothing short of trouble in this one. That head that refused to bow under the weight of the metal mask encompassing the the waif's face from the bridge of his nose downward. Tattered clothing did little to dissolve the idea of dignity surrounding this one.

Hiei thought that sort of unwavering fire might help keep his mind from dwelling on the past, no matter how recent it may be.

Fucking Mukuro.

No one gave her permission to die.

He shook his head and made his orders. The prisoner watched him without a word of acceptance or protest.

"He doesn't speak, sir."

"I always preferred the quiet anyway." Hiei responded.

A slave. A redheaded, blue eyes slave slapped in irons. Charged with killing his master. It was a quiet murder, the sort that comes to pass through inaction. Simply, the slave did nothing to stop someone else from poisoning his then owner. Now he faced the gallows.

It rang too close to home for Hiei to ignore.

All he could see was shackles and oppression and he had to do something. He had to change the story this time.

"You'll work for me from now on." Hiei declared, not bothering to look back at his newest employee. "Congratulations, you're in the service of a king."

An unwilling king who wished he could just forget about his duty, but a king nonetheless. Hiei ran through the quick tour of the castle, of the rules to his silent audience. The man followed him on quiet feet befitting a servant.

"I'll come up with a post for you." Hiei explained, realizing he hadn't thought through this part. He didn't have a job for this one to fulfill. Just a need.

He just needed a redhead around, he told himself. Kurama, Mukuro and now this one.

A dull stare answered his words and he wondered if this was going to work. Maybe he was just too desperate. This one seemed defective, broken.

Quiet.

He needed that annoying redhead vigor, the banter he never asked for but always secretly enjoyed.

"Find a place to sleep. Settle in. I'll try to come up with something for you to do tomorrow."

Hiei marched off to bed, leaving the servant behind. He found himself in Mukuro's room with a frown on his face.

Not her room, his. He was king now.

All because she had to go and die. Like a fool.

He didn't sleep well. Fitful at best. What was the point in trying to sleep anyway? He awoke to his clothes set out on a chair in the room, immaculately prepared. They smelled clean. After dressing he found food on the table in the dining hall, a breakfast that would be wasted on just one demon. And the taste was actually palatable for once. He marveled at the change and then forgot it as one of his men walked in to brief him on the days events.

A busy day punctuated by timely meals of well cooked food. Of tea at just the right moment. Of hot water prepared for his bath just when he was finally finished.

A few days of this routine eventually, finally, made him question it all.

"Oh, that's Amon sir." One of the other house staff explained. "He's taken over your personal care. He takes it quite seriously."

"Amon?"

"Yes sir, the new house servant? With the mask."

Funny that the mask was the first thing everyone else seemed to notice when for him it had been the man's eyes and hair.

"He told you his name?"

"He wrote it down with detailed instructions on how to prepare your meals."

"I see." Hiei looked around the kitchen then, squinting as he thought. "Where is he now?"

"I'm afraid I'm unsure, sir. Amon sleeps in separate quarters from the rest of us and moves at his own pace."

Hiei nodded and turned on heel, leaving the room. He didn't have time to track down a rogue servant at the moment. He had meetings to attend.

* * *

It was late. The rest of the castle was quiet, but Hiei was awake pacing Muku...his room, unable to sleep. He hadn't decent rest in weeks. The last few days had been especially bad. There was unrest in the city around them, the citizens restless about the change in command. He couldn't blame him, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been forced to lead this way before.

Yusuke carried that special charisma people who innately took charge were graced with. Mukuro had it too.

He did not.

Jerking to a stop at the sound of metal against wood he spun to glare with menace at the intruder. He hadn't heard anyone approach. It took a few seconds for him to loosen up his prepared stance, his palm hovering above the hilt of his blade.

Amon stared at him with eyes bruised from nights without sleep, glanced at his hand before he slowly allowed it to fall loose to his side, and then met his eyes once more. With a quick bow of his head, he used a sweeping hand to present the tray of tea and small snacks. Hiei noted that while the man's clothes were now clean, they weren't in any better shape than they had been before. Did he only have one pair?

He closed his eyes at his own stupid, silent question.

Of course he only had one set of clothing. Amon had been a prisoner.

"Do you always skulk about when I'm not looking?" Hiei snapped at him, annoyed at himself for his lack of awareness and at the man for pointing it out.

Those blue eyes just stared back at him, no sign of agreement or otherwise. Hiei huffed and marched over to accept the tea.

"How did you know I was awake?" He asked, just barely letting go of his harsh tone.

Amon glanced to the light illuminating the space.

"Just happened to notice the light under the door? What were you even doing around here?"

Again, that blank stare that seemed to reveal nothing, empty eyes peeking from above that damn mask. Hiei studied the man before him. The clothes were clean, but the man underneath? Not so much. His pale skin was a patchwork of dirt and grime with peeks of the natural tones popping through where it could be seen from under the long sleeve shirt. That short red hair was thick with the same. Why would a man who took the time to polish his shoes not bathe?

"Find time to bathe between your skulking sessions." Hiei demanded with a partial glare. "You look disgusting. And get some new clothes. Honestly. How are you supposed to be any use if you can't even care for yourself?"

It was faint, the confusion that sparked in the man's eyes. Almost as if just realizing his own state, he lifted his arms to study the backs of his hands with a look of mild curiosity.

Hiei grabbed him, crossing the several feet in a blur. He kept the man's hand aloft, trapped in his own as he studied the raw wounds on Amon's wrist. His captive didn't fight, didn't flinch. But when Hiei moved his attention back to the man's face, he was met with eyes that had gone glassy.

The eyes of someone used to sudden contact resulting in pain.

Hiei dropped his hold immediately stepping back. His fingers had left marks where they'd wiped away some of grime.

"While you're finding time to bathe, get those wounds cleaned. They're started to fester." Hiei commanded, distracted.

Sores from the shackles.

Mukuro had born them too, though hers had long before turned to scars of thickened skin and scrapes against the metal of her other arm.

"Now." Hiei looked away, unable to see any more. Maybe the guards in the prison had been right. Bringing Amon here had been a mistake. He'd fallen victim to a rare moment of sentimentality.

And now he was stuck with a ghost reminding him of what he'd lost.


	2. Saorsa

She had been warned about the king by the guards, who taunted her with the knowledge that he would not hesitate to send her to the gallows. She didn't need their input on such matters.

She knew her fate and she would meet it head on.

As a free being.

Finally.

But the man who stared at her through the bars of the cell did not demand her immediate execution. She had prepared herself for the end. Made her peace. Found her ease. In fact, she was looking forward to it. The last century and a half had not been exactly kind to her. The reprieve of death, though a cowards way out, sang of true peace at last. True freedom. She would not be buried with the rites of her people, but at least this existence would be over.

Instead…

"Release him."

Everything inside of her turned cold. Had she the ability to speak she would have cursed the lot of them. She was free. She was so close to being truly free.

He made sure her shackles were removed before they went on to the castle. Her arms felt too light without them. Her entire body was off balance without the extra weight.

"You'll work for me from now on."

And just as easily as those words fell from the bastard king's lips, so went her freedom through her trembling fingers. It could have been worse from the start, she knew. She could have been _inspected_ as had happened before. Stripped to nothing, prodded and leered at once her master realized she wasn't male. The fact the king was foolish enough to believe her a man bode well for her.

Greyfield had placed her in these binds. His existence had created a choke chain that strangled her at his whim. He held the ability to control her, to command her to do anything. He put her in the position of requiring a master until she was freed.

But noone who owned slaves wanted to free them.

And she felt the familiar itch of compulsion already crawling over her skin once more. At this point, she'd been under its influence than longer than she hadn't. It felt nearly _right_ to be controlled again. And she hated that it felt so natural.

Goddammit.

She would burn this kingdom to ashes and dance in them as they fell from the sky while warming her cold hands on the flames.

"Find a place to sleep. Settle in. I'll try to come up with something for you to do tomorrow."

She was glued into place as if the soles of her shoes (in desperate need of a shine) had melted into the stones below her feet. Just like that the king left her to do whatever she would. She waited for several long moments for him to return. Waited for him to reveal that he'd been testing her. Only then would he give her the location of her designated quarters. Only then would he offer his true commands.

She needed him to come back. To tell her what to do.

Panic rose when, after fifteen minutes he did not return. She stayed on her feet, exhausted beyond measure, in that spot for hours before realizing that he wasn't tricking her. Once she understood his words to be an actual command her body moved on it's own, unable to stop until she found a suitable place to sleep.

The castle had a section in its underbelly with empty rooms and doors that locked from the outside. That's where she curled up, on the cold stone floor, to find rest. Without the chains on her wrists her body didn't know how to sleep. She'd worn them for so long. But the stone felt familiar under her cheek.

A few hours of fitful rest was all she allowed herself before moving into her new position. In her experience it was best to not allow the men in charge to come up with jobs for her. They tended to get needlessly cruel and creative. So she set out the king's clothes, making sure they were pressed to her satisfaction. She saw to the menu for his meals. Made his tea. She took control of the cleaning schedule and redirected the other staff to be more efficient. She did everything in her power to be the invisible force that greased the wheels of the castle.

A good slave was not seen or heard. They were just where they were needed at the right time. If the king never had to see her again, it meant she was doing her job well.

That's how Greyfield felt anyway.

But Greyfield had taken great pleasure in making sure she wasn't successful. He enjoyed any excuse to demean or punish her he could create. If he even needed one. That was his right, as her master.

And that was the king's right as well.

She hoped he never had a reason to exercise it. The scars on her back burned at the thought but she ignored it, moving through the halls on feet that made no noise. She'd always had a light step. It was a skill she'd learned in her youth, trekking through the forests of her homeland. She'd only gotten more adept at it as time had gone on.

During some conversation with another member of the staff, they'd requested her name. She'd begun to write it out for them but her hand stilled after the first two syllables. It was all she could manage to offer, her hand shaking to the point of uselessness as she tried desperately to write the second half.

Greyfield might be dead but it seemed his rules weren't.

That bastard would haunt her for the rest of her miserable existence.

A few short weeks blurred passed. She'd found the time to clean her clothing between scrubbing the floors and organizing the meals. Shined her shoes. Darned a few of the holes in her shirt and pants. She took great pride in her appearance, replacing the buttons on her shirt so they all matched.

Which is why it shocked her when the king pointed out she was filthy.

It wasn't until his commanded her to bathe that she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd cleaned herself. And him demanding she cleanse her wounds…

Greyfield had never worried about the marks opening her skin.

Greyfield had kept her on a rigid schedule. He told her when to eat, sleep, where to be and when, what to do at all times. He told her when to bathe. How to dress. His expectations of her were sometimes a riddle, but overall they were laid out neatly. She knew how to behave.

But this king, he didn't use her to her fullest extent. He didn't have a schedule for her to follow. That was why sleep evaded her. He never told her when to rest. A few times she'd worked for days straight until she simply couldn't any longer before she realized what she'd done.

And his words… it all gave the impression that perhaps he expected her to exist without his orders.

Could it be that he didn't know? Did he not understand what he'd done when he'd brought her here? She'd been warned he was a merciless bastard who cared only for himself and for power. Yet, the way he'd released her and given her space. The fact he'd noticed her raw skin at all, it spoke of a man with deeper understanding of those around him. She'd been prepared to yet again serve under a cruel and unyielding monster.

Perhaps, though, she had found herself in the position to aid a man with actual promise in this disgusting world.

* * *

Bathing had been the only time Greyfield had taken the chains off her. She needed to undress, after all. Though a few times he'd left them on her to watch her struggle to meet his command knowing that she couldn't remove her shirt with the shackles.

Here, in the bath so far removed from the rest that no one bothered to use it, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Letting it fall off her arms she carefully folded it before setting it in the basket. The same with her pants, then her worn socks and her shining shoes. For a few quiet minutes she stared at herself in the mirror. Counted the scars on her arms and stomach and legs. Her fingers grazed over the black collar adorning her neck, the true symbol of her bondage.

Greyfield enjoyed the chains, but the collar is where his power truly resided.

Her fingertips moved upwards, pressing against the cool surface of the half-face mask. There was no clasp or snap to undo. The men who had found her with Greyfield's body had welded it closed.

She supposed they hadn't expected her to live this long.

Truly, it was her fault for defending herself with her teeth.

She doused herself with cold water, allowing the stream of it to carry the dirty and grime and ilk off of her skin and out of her hair. Closing her eyes she enjoyed the touch of the liquid as it rolled over her skin. Such a beautiful feeling. Bathing was her favorite thing in this wretched life she'd found herself trapped in. It allowed her the smallest taste of the elements that were once her own.

As a child she'd shown great promise as a warrior. Mastering the elements of water and air. Learning to fight in her family's style. Learning to heal and to hunt and to resolve. But then…

She shook her head and realized she'd drowned herself in memories better left alone. The ghosts of her past were not peaceful nor did they offer her any chance at forgiveness. They, like this world, wanted nothing more than to swallow her whole.

This collar was a punishment of divine nature. She'd done something unforgivable and now she suffered for it eternally.

She had been a fool to think freedom would come to her.

Shutting off the water she rose to her feet and stared into the clear bathwater. Her reflection stared back, a pale face with eyes proclaiming the suffering of sleepless nights, her thin arms the sick reminder that she hadn't eaten in far too long. Her body would give out sooner or later. This body, which had once been strong enough to conquer insurmountable odds now appeared as a dried husk of itself.

What would freedom taste like these days, she wondered as she sank into the water. What does freedom feel like? Was free will as valuable as she remembered? What would she do with it even if she had it?

She didn't know.

But as her eyes drifted close, the warmth of the water easing away some pains she'd hadn't realized she was carrying, she smiled under her mask. She didn't know. But it was nice to dream about it.


	3. Nepenthe

**A/N: Here we are again! I posted *something* this week. I have a job interview tomorrow for a new job so that's exciting and I'm quite hopeful about it. I hope you all enjoy this.**

* * *

Hiei vaguely questioned the time as he lay in bed, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. It had been late when he'd finally gone to the room, later still when he'd relented to his heavy limbs and climbed into bed. He had closed his eyes and that's when _the feeling_ came back.

It always came in the quiet moments, when nothing but the sound of his own breathing interrupted the silence. Beginning in the pit of his stomach it would creep outward, tendrils of some horrid thing crawling through his body. It would sit heavy on his chest, digging in until the muscles clenched. Then it stalked up to his brain, a sick voice like his own but worse, breathing reminders he neither wanted nor needed.

 _She's not coming back._

 _You'll never live up to her._

Hiei had tried everything to shut that damn voice up. Nothing worked. Not in the darkness and the quiet.

The sound of cloth rustling roused him from his thoughts. Quietly, he watched as the darkened outline of Amon gathered his discarded clothes from the day and set out crisp, clean attire for him to don in the morning. The details weren't prominent without light, but Hiei could still see practiced hands smoothing out any wrinkles the other man deemed unseemly. Did Amon not realize he was awake? Or did he simply not care?

"You don't sleep much." Hiei allowed the observation to cut through the darkness.

Amon stilled, growing stiff before turning toward him. Over the distance Hiei couldn't make out his expression but his body language shone through the shadows. For a tense moment, the other merely stared at him as if expecting something.

Hiei had noticed, on the few occasions he addressed Amon, that the man often reacted this way. Their interactions were brief and Hiei hadn't touched him since the night he'd ordered the other to bathe. But still that expectation remained. The presumption that attention from Hiei surely would result in some form of punishment or pain. Hiei didn't need to see Amon's eyes to know they had grown tight at the corners.

Not for the first time, Hiei wondered what exactly had transpired over the course of the man's life. And not for the first time he didn't ask.

Amon bowed, as he had the habit of doing.

Hiei scoffed, as he always did.

"Relax, you didn't wake me." Hiei huffed watching the shadowed figure rise back to his full height. "I could ask why you're awake at this god-awful hour though."

Amon motioned toward the clothes.

"Do you always sneak into my room this of night to lay out my clothes?" Truthfully, the answer was meaningless to Hiei. He just wanted to prolong the presence of someone else in the room.

The feeling always receded when given the distraction of company. Clearly this pain was an ambush predator, skulking back with every question he asked.

Amon nodded slowly, an uncertain gesture Hiei was sure meant he suspected the answer might not be the correct one to give.

"You've never woken me," Hiei mused, mostly to himself because it wasn't like the mute was going to really answer him. Still, he was surprised. It took a practiced step to sneak up on him. "Maybe I should get you a bell."

He'd meant it as a half-hearted joke, but Amon offered nothing he could see in response. Hiei found himself out of inane chit-chat. Swallowing, he grasped at any topic that might extend the interaction for just a few minutes more. Even as he was doing it, he knew he was being a coward. What sort of demon was afraid to face their own thoughts? What sort of idiot needed someone else around to subdue their own feelings? It wasn't like him, the need to fill the silence, but the compulsion grew nonetheless. The longer he sat in the dark the closer the feeling crept to him, despite Amon's presence.

"Do you ever get tired of the quiet, Amon?" Hiei posed the question expecting another vieled response.

Instead, Amon strode over and lit a lamp,k allowing the warm orange light to bathe them both in its glow. Then, with a pointedly unblinking stare, made almost unnerving by his piercing blue gaze, he nodded.

"How do you deal with it?" Hiei pressed. "How do you not suffocate in the silence?"

Amon seemed to consider him for a long second, not with that glassy blank stare but with something Hiei hadn't seen on his face before. Curiosity perhaps? Then with a sweeping hand, the servant once again motioned toward the clothes. Only now Hiei could see the bags under the man's eyes and pallor to his skin.

It appeared Hiei wasn't the only one avoiding sleep.

"You work." Hiei surmised from the action, and Amon nodded to confirm. "That only helps for so long."

It was a passing thought that escaped his lips, but Amon nodded to it anyway. Well, they say that misery loves company, Hiei thought to himself. If nothing else at least he wasn't alone in the feeling. Perhaps that's what drew him to the redhead, beyond the similarities. The kindred spirit of a miserable soul.

Amon shifted slightly, watching Hiei with consideration before glancing toward the door. Hiei took the hint.

"You're dismissed. Turn out the light." He ordered, still sitting with the blanket pooled around his waist. If Amon cared about the scars decorating his bare chest or abdomen, he didn't show it.

Amon used two fingers to snuff out the light of the lamp and then disappeared from the room before Hiei had time to reconsider and begin the conversation anew.

* * *

Sneering, Hiei swallowed his first bite of food and then glared at the plate. After nearly two months of Amon coordinating his meals, the bitter food offended him. He tolerated one or two more bites before rejecting the meal completely, his mood dipping further down. Lack of sleep had already made him irritable. Dinner was worse. Or maybe it was the same as lunch but he disliked it more because he had expected some improvement. His sour mood deepened.

Another sleepless night kept his demeanor from improving.

The fact his clothes weren't cleaned, and his breakfast was late didn't help. Nothing was running on time. Everything was a mess. His temper crescendoed, reaching higher points until he finally felt it snap.

"Where the fuck is Amon?" He demanded, stalking into the kitchen with a snarl. "We need to have a conversation."

He realized he'd gotten spoiled by Amon's diligent attention to details. He shouldn't have been so affected by one servant slacking on their job, but here he was, up in arms. It was just that Amon happened to be incredibly good at what he did. Without him at his best, the entire system seemed to be falling to pieces and Hiei was annoyed he had to deal with it.

The kitchen staff all glanced around at each other.

"Answer me." Hiei snapped.

"Apologies, sir." One of the cooks frowned. "It's just, we all assumed you were informed, given that Amon is your personal attendant."

"Informed of what?"

"He'd in the medical wing." The cook explained carefully. Hiei's frowned grew, not from anger but from puzzlement. "Amon collapsed yesterday morning during his duties. He's was taken for an examination. He's likely only has a few more days to live."

Hiei wasn't sure why the news hit him so hard. Amon was a servant. A murderer. A former death row prisoner he'd haphazardly adopted into his household. But the words still caused a narrowing of his senses. The telescoping of his sight, his hearing, it all felt too familiar.

Dying.

The feeling didn't want for him to be alone. He felt it latch onto him and this time he couldn't shove it aside. It seized his lungs and his brain. Breathing became difficult, the tightness of his chest creating the effect of gasping for air through a straw. His hands shook. He fled the kitchen to take refuge in the first empty room he found to ride it out, collapsing backwards against the door.

He had died once, or at least nearly.

This was worse to him. It felt so much worse, the panic stirring up his bile. An eternity passed before he slid down the door to the floor, his head in his hands. It was the same. It was the same was when Mukuro…

He stopped breathing, his eyes pinched closed.

No.

Not this was not the same.

Amon was dying, not dead. Amon had a chance, perhaps. And unlike with Mukuro, he wasn't helpless here. He could do something.

That gave him the strength to rise to his feet, growing steadier with each passing second. After regaining control of himself he straightened his back, narrowed his eyes and found his resolve. Amon wasn't dead. Not yet. And if he had his way, and he would _definitely_ have his way, the other man wouldn't be buried anytime soon.


	4. Borborygmi

**A/N: Slow moving lately but I'm working on the next chapter of SC between job apps! Your support means the world, thank you for reading.**

* * *

Amon rested against the wall next to the king's chamber door, breathing slowly to get herself through the bout of dizziness that had struck her so suddenly. They were coming more often recently. The king had asked how she kept from suffocating in the silence, but honestly the quiet wasn't her biggest challenge to cope with anymore.

When Greyfield had initially forbidden her from speaking unless commanded it infuriated her. She bared her teeth, snarled, spit about it. But she hadn't made a sound. She couldn't. Greyfield's will was her law.

She may never speak again.

The dizziness abated, leaving her tired and leaning on the wall for support. Breathing came slowly through the mask. Another hallmark of it's design she was sure meant her life was meant to end shortly after its application. Nearly two months had passed since she'd been brought to the castle. The mask had been thrown on her a week before that. The hunger pains had become so common that she had forgotten what it was like to not feel them. In a way it made her feel at home. The king was a kinder master than Greyfield and hadn't raised a hand to her once.

Pushing off the wall she made her way down toward the kitchen to lay out the plans for the shopping and the king's breakfast. Then she'd rest and prepare herself to begin on the day's cleaning.

Dark spots appeared in her vision as she tried to write out the menu for the day. Her hand shaking so badly the words grew illegible. A sharp pain racked her abdomen and doubled her over, sucking in a harsh breath through her teeth. The pen broke her in her grip, staining the paper and her skin in black ink that rolled down her arm, oddly warm against her skin. Was it warm?

"You're shivering." One of the maids placed a hand on her shoulder, concern on her face. "Amon, are you alright?"

She raised her hand to stave off the concern before forcing herself upright. She swayed on her feet but shook her head anyway in an attempt to get the ringing out of her ears.

"You're sweating and pale." The maid touched her forehead, brushing aside her overgrown bangs. When had they gotten so long? When was her last haircut? Greyfield had always been prompt about getting her hair shorn.

Nodding to indicate she was fine, Amon backed away from her concerned coworker. The menu was a mess but she didn't have the energy to fix it. She needed to sleep, that's what this was. So she went to her room in the chilly underbelly of the castle and curled up on her favorite, worn stones on the floor, wrapped her hands in one of the chains she'd forced out of the wall and closed her eyes. The weight of the chains in her hands helped her rest, brought her comfort.

"It's like you to oversleep." Another servant, a young boy with rabbit ears and green fur, teased her as he woke her. "It's nearly mid-morning y'know."

Midmorning? She'd been asleep for too long. There was so much so to do. Groggy, she let the chains uncoil from around her arms and rose to sitting before promptly closing her eyes to dispell another wave of dizziness.

The boy watched her rise, brush the dirt off her clothes and then grow still. She pointedly stared at him, eyebrow raised until he pouted and rushed from the room. The kid had a habit of following her around, watching her. She enjoyed his youthful vigor, but she didn't appreciate being watched. The door closed behind him and she turned toward the hanging rack she'd crafted for her new clothes. By the king's order she'd gone and purchased more suits and shirts.

Back when she was first taken, she'd had to bind her chest to keep it flat to appeal to Greyfield's sadistic need to control her identity. She'd never felt entirely feminine, but being forced into a masculine role had caused her to rage.

Greyfield like it when she was angry. He liked knowing he was doing things that bothered her and that she was helpless to fight back.

Oh, but who was laughing now? He was dead and she worked for a king.

Now, though, she had no reason to bind her chest. Her weight had fallen so much she no longer had any hint of curve to her. Partly, this was a lingering effect of Greyfield strict eating schedule for her. He had forced her to lose weight until she'd lost the roundness in her cheeks, the softness of her chest and hips. Her inability to eat for months now had done the rest. Stripping out of her clothes with care she examined herself in the mirror she'd acquired from a storage room.

She'd heard that Raizen had died a decade ago, after centuries of starving himself. It surprised then, that she would reflect her lack of nutrition so quickly. Her arms and legs were frail, thin, the skin a pallor unnatural to her. She could count her ribs and when she turned around, she could see the ridges in her spine. Ink stained her right hand and the skin of her arm from the morning's mishap with the pen.

To her eyes she was not in her own body. Her mind couldn't reconcile her memory with this waif it was presented with. When she was young, when she was free, she'd been in fighting shape. Muscular and strong with red hair that fell against her back in plaits and braids. Wild. Alive.

She got dressed quickly to save herself from having to see her own body any longer.

Another spell hit her while she scrubbed the floors of an upper hall. The rest of the staff accepted her as the king's personal attendant but he had never actually called her that. She simply had taken to the role because he had told her she worked for him. But because he hadn't given her an actual title she did her best to fulfill all aspects of servitude.

She cooked, shopped, cleaned, prepped the laundry, made the tea. She organized a schedule that made the entire castle work like a finely crafted clock. So while a normal personal servant wouldn't find themselves on hands and knees in dirty water, scrub brush in her hand, she accepted the duty easily. Anything to help the castle maintain it's schedule. Anything to be useful.

The maid from the kitchen called her name, a smile on her face. They'd been getting along alright. She had the day's menu in her hand, the bottom of the page completely mired by spilled ink. Realizing she must have had a question about lunch preparation, Amon rose.

And then stumbled, her vision swimming with black.

"Amon?"

Why did her name sound so far away? The hall wasn't that long. The maid couldn't have been more than a few meters from her.

"Amon?" Further still, her voice came through cotton.

Wishing she could call out, but with her voice trapped behind and invisible wall in her throat, Amon's eyes rolled up into her head and she fell downard into an endless darkness.

* * *

Screeching. God-awful head-shattering screeching. The sound of metal protesting an attack from a device meant to cleave it open. Grinding. Loud. It woke her suddenly and with panic.

"Stay still."

Her body stopped struggling under the weight of hands holding her down. That sound was so close to her ears. Trapped on her stomach, pinned to a thin mattress on a metal frame, she was forced to comply. How could she not?

The king had spoken.

"It's almost done." His voice came to her under the sound. He moved and she realized he'd been standing just out of her peripheral, likely watching whatever was being done to her. "The mask is almost off."

Her eyes widened. Almost as if on cue, the weight of the metal fell to the floor, clanging. The saw stopped, the room fell into silence in the echo of the mask being removed. Amon felt her eyes water, and she wasn't sure the cause. The pain of a line of skin going with the mask, having tried to heal around it where it had cut into her face? Or was it the scent of clean air for the time in months that overwhelmed her? Maybe it was the sheer idea that the king had bothered to have it removed at all.

"You can move now." The king told her and she did so slowly.

With great effort she tucked her knees under her and put her weight on her hands to sit up. When she rose, she examined her face with her fingertips. Felt the contour of her sunken cheeks. The thinness of her lips that had once been full. She felt the blood running down her cheeks and the sides of her nose, falling from the line reopened. It ran over the tops of her cheeks, just below the hollow of her eyes, and over the bridge of her nose. But she didn't care.

She could breathe.

A hand grabbed her chin, jerking her out of her internal reverie. Her eyes met the crimson of the king's steely gaze. His mouth was a line pressed thin in his anger. Those eyes scoured her, the harsh scrutiny nearly palpable.

"You should have told me." He growled at her, his grip tightening. "If you had just said something I could have had the damn mask removed when you got here. Instead you chose to starve yourself to death. What sort of useless fool are you?"

She stared back, a little shocked by his outburst. Her lips parted because more than anything she wanted to tell him she was thankful to him, but that it wasn't her place to ask for selfish things. The words couldn't escape. Instead she softened her gaze, pulled his hand from her chin and bowed her head to it. She hoped he understood her deep appreciation.

After a second he pulled his hand away, frowning. "You're an idiot, Amon. Next time just tell me when something is happening."

She nodded slowly.

"Clean him up and for fuck's sake, get him something to eat." Hiei demanded of the medical staff who rushed to comply with his orders. "Dying of malnourishment in a castle full of food. Honestly. Of all the bullshit ways to commit suicide. Don't do it again."

It came unbidden because she couldn't help it. His annoyance just brought it out of her. The chuckle fell from her lips, which she immediately tried to cover with her hand. It wasn't proper, not by a long shot, but the king looked like a pouting child with that sour expression on his face.

"Oh, you think this is funny?" Hiei snapped at her. "We'll see how funny you think it is when I force you to eat every meal with me until your well."

The chuckle grew into a laugh.

"Stop laughing!" He growled and she was forced to honor his command, but her lips were still quirked into a partial grin she tried to hide. "You're a pain in my ass."

She felt, all things considered, that his declaration held less bite than it was meant to. A sense of warmth grew in her chest at the strange underlying affection she felt start to blossom for this young king.


	5. Tempestuous

**A/N: My meds got increased and now I'm tired all the time so it's been hard to write between that and my new job, but I managed to get this done! I'm hoping to update the other stories by the end of the month. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hiei snarled and lashed out with his sword, his feet sliding apart to widen his stance so he wouldn't be bowled over by the onslaught of creatures coming at him. One after another he cut them down, sweat dripping down his face and chest from exertion. Eventually, the flood of them ceased and he was left standing alone in the underground cavern that served as his training space. Down here, his ragged breathing echoing off the walls, he could hide from the outside world. He could indulge in senseless carnage until his body lost all will to move.

Then he could sleep, undisturbed by memories or dreams.

Several years before Mukuro had revealed she'd managed to create the perfect training dummies for them to work with, no longer using actual demons. These laboratory crafted creatures were aggressive, strong, and mindless. They attacked anything that moved and had a higher body temperature than themselves. In Hiei's case, he was an unmissable target. Once the droves were released they'd flock to him without pause and tear at his sword, his arms, his legs, his clothes. Cheap to make and dispensible by the hundreds, they offered the perfect outlet for his frustrations.

He used to fight them alongside Mukuro before they'd inevitably run out of test tube demons and turn on each other with smirks and snide remarks.

A warmup, she'd always call it never showing any signs of fatigue.

Crimson eyes studied the sword in battle-hardened hands, the bandages around his palms and fingers weathered to the point of needing to be replaced.

The crunch of earth under shoes had him turning his attention over his shoulder.

"I thought I told you to rest until the doctors cleared you for duty." Hiei narrowed his eyes at the stubborn redhead holding a clean towel toward him. He jerked the rag from the servant's hands and used it to wipe at the sweat sticking to his skin.

Amon nodded to acknowledge his point, then extending a note to him. With a huff he snatched that from the other man.

"Fit for duty my ass." Hiei muttered under his breath, then rose his gaze to asses the man studying him in turn.

Amon's head cocked to the side, those blue eyes sliding over him then around the mess of manufactured demons he'd left around himself. With a raised eyebrow Amon toed one of the corpses with the tip of a polished shoe. The man's distaste was clear on his face, something Hiei actually enjoyed seeing. Not that he'd admit any such thing aloud. Being able to properly gauge Amon's attitude and mood now that the mask was gone had proven to be equal parts educational and entertaining.

It seemed his favorite servant was a morally uptight and opinionated pain in the ass.

Hiei blinked, somewhat surprised by his own thoughts. He hadn't even bothered to get to know most of the other staff, how could he claim any of them as a favorite?

Amon flattened the disapproval out of his lips and moved his attention back to Hiei fully.

"You can relax, Amon. They were never truly alive. They're practically made of clay." Hiei draped the towel around his neck, tipping his head back to look up into the other man's face, the barest hint of a grin lifting his lips. His hands held the ends of the towel. "So, how did you get this doctor's note? More trickery?"

Amon shook his head.

Amon didn't lie. It was something Hiei had come to know with absolute certainty. Even if honestly would result in punishment, it was the route Amon always took.

Hiei didn't get it, personally, but it made it easy to find out information.

The last two notes he'd received from the redhead had been, in order of receipt, gotten through bribery and drafted by the man himself. That one Hiei had actually saved, because despite himself it made him laugh. It had been handed to him with a look of utter annoyance and challenge two weeks into Amon's recovery.

 _I am fine. These doctors know nothing._

 _I'm discharging myself and stating my ability to_

 _complete my duties in full. I will return to work_

 _promptly tomorrow morning._

As funny as it was to him, he'd still threatened to put the man in a locked recovery room if he didn't behave himself. Hiei wanted to see what Amon would be like once he was healthy. Was he strong? Could he fight? Would he still prowl the halls of the castle at night like a phantom?

"You've put on weight." Hiei commented to silent attendant. "You look healthier, but you're still too thin. I have no use for a servant who will collapse at the slightest breeze, Amon. You need to focus on getting stronger."

He tore up the doctor's note and let it fall to the ground.

Amon's eyes watched the shreds of paper fall to the dirt with eyes blazing with such a quiet rage that Hiei was almost impressed. That heated glare bore into them and then, Amon swept into a bow, red hair falling down around his face and obscuring his eyes.

Hiei walked forward, the note grinding into the earth below them as he stepped on the scraps of paper. He stopped beside Amon and waited for the man to rise.

"That's the first time you've ever seemed remotely defiant in my presence. I could get used to seeing that fire in your eyes." Hiei smirked and then headed for the stairs that would lead him back into the castle proper. "Don't spend too much time down here, I can't promise I got all the training dummies."

He left the door open behind him.

* * *

Amon watched the king ascend the worn steps carved from the innards of the kingdom itself. He was proving to be far more stubborn and difficult to please in this respect than she had anticipated. Sitting around, doing nothing, it wasn't good for her. She needed to move.

Her eyes drifted to the remnants of her bid for freedom and she rolled her eyes away from it. For years she'd wondered what it would be like to serve a master who gave even half of a shit about her wellbeing. Now she found it oddly restricting. For a man who couldn't even sit alone with his own thoughts for longer than an hour, the king was sure keen on torturing her with the very treatment he feared receiving. Oh, what she would give to lock _him_ in a room.

Movement behind her drew her attention. She pulled one of her black gloves off. Without a second thought she made a crisp motion, her arm slashing across the straggler the king had left undisposed. Her long nails were as sharp as a blade, and when used properly, they could cut through things a lot thicker than a living fighting mannequin. Watching the torso slide off the waist, she had the thought that the king was correct. They _were_ basically made of clay.

Just after she pulled her glove back on, the door at the top of the stairs blew open and the king stepped out with a leer.

"I thought I said not to mope around down here. Get your ass back up here, Amon. Don't make me come get you." His voice held the definitive edge of annoyance she'd grown accustomed to hearing.

Unable to refuse a direct command, she began to climb the stairs. Perhaps because of her compromised state when she'd arrived here she had never truly noticed that she had several inches of height over the king. He didn't seem to care about the difference. Some men would have demanded she lower herself at all times. This king didn't seem to need to bark those sort of orders to feel in control and respected.

"I spoke to the doctors and they are apparently convinced you can, and should, return to work." He didn't seem too happy to have this confirmation. "Fine. But if you try to starve yourself again, or collapse, I'll make you regret it, do you understand me?"

She offered him a singular nod.

"Good." He narrowed his eyes and she knew he meant it.

The king had never raised a hand to her. He didn't even seem to like to touch her. She wondered what his version of punishment was.

The kitchen staff clapped when she entered and it made her pause. Then she laughed at them as they congratulated her for returning. Even without the mask they all still referred to her with masculine pronouns. She wondered how much longer she'd be able to hide her true identity. The more weight she gained, the better rested she was, the more she'd fill out. Her clothes already felt tight around her chest, ribs and hips. She could no longer button her jacket properly.

"It's good to see you, Amon." The kitchen maid who been so concerned for her smiled with warmth. Marielle, she'd learned while in recovery.

By way of returning the remark, Amon offered a smile and a slight bob of her head. And then, as if she hadn't left, she began to write her orders for the evening meal and making up a shopping list for coming days.

Just like that she was back to work and it was as if she had never left. Never before had she been able to so seamlessly slide into a role.

The king was in his study sharpening his sword when she hunted him down with dinner. Setting the tray of food on his desk, opposite his boots which were propped up on the wooden surface casting specks of dried muck all over the place, she bowed her head and turned to leave him to it.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She stopped, pivoting to face him with confusion. Her eyes darted to the door, her brows pulled down.

The king stared at her, crimson gaze searing. He used his sword, the fleshly cleaned blade catching the overhead lights, to point at the chair across from him on the other side of the desk.

"Sit."

Her feet carried her to the chair and she sank into it with a straight back as she watched the king out of both curiosity and caution. He uncovered the food she'd brought and pushed a few options toward her. His eyes never left her and it raised the hair on the back of her neck to be scrutinized so closely.

Her mouth went dry. It was sudden, the visceral and tangible power she felt radiating from the man across from her. How had she never felt it before?

"Eat." He ordered and her compliance would have happened with or without the collar at this point. This was one man whose wrath she did not want to incur, that was immediately and undeniably clear to her now. "I wasn't making some poor excuse for a joke when I told you I'd make you eat where I could watch, Amon. As long as you're on my staff, you're not going to get away with any more suicidal stunts."

He was truly hung up on her dying, wasn't he? She wanted to tell him it wasn't an attempted suicide but in fact an unfortunate and slow manslaughter. There was no way to explain so she ate the food he presented to her, keeping her eyes down.

Everything came to a stop in her mind and body as the cold flat of the blade came to rest under her chin, pressing upwards to force her to raise her face. The king wielded the weapon as if it was merely an extension of his body. Once, she'd been the same. But that was a story she no longer had any part in.

"I don't like that expression, Amon." His attention held a weight as it washed over her. "It doesn't suit you. I prefer that fire."

The sword remained under her chin, not presenting any direct danger she realized. It was a tool in this moment, not a threat. That relaxed her enough to lift her chin eyes, narrow her eyes and use a gloved hand to carefully push the blade to the side without blinking. The king tipped his head back, crossing his ankles as he studied her with a satisfied expression.

"That's better." He plucked a dish from the tray.

It struck her that he wanted a bit of defiance. Some fight, not outright, but a challenge. Her lips rose as she considered all the ways to fulfill that need for him. What a delightfully terrible opportunity.

Well, if this king wanted a tempestuous servant he had rescued the right one. After all, even Greyfield had learned long ago that a collar and muzzle did not a tame wolf make.


	6. Vagary

**A/N: Hey y'all. I'm still alive. Still going through it, y'know? But I'm hoping things will level out soon. My meds got upped, I've got an appointment with a psychiatrist soon, I'm reaching out to start therapy. I'm trying. I haven't forgotten about my other stories, this one just comes most easily at the moment. Also, my new job is quieting down so I'll have more time to write and to think.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Amon smiled at Marielle as they worked in the kitchen together, Amon's hands dipped into hot water filled with suds and dishes, Marielle's small, delicate hands, piecing together some elaborate pastries for the day. It was quiet in the castle at this time of morning, and Amon had admitted to herself that she liked these moments. Once Benji, the rabbit eared youngster, awoke she'd get no peace.

The youth had a never ending energy about him, and the vigorous desire to carry out all his plans. It was ridiculously childlike. She enjoyed watching him scurry about as much as she envied his naivety. To him, the world was a mystery to solve, a nut to crack. He was invincible.

She missed the days she'd felt the same.

While they worked, both early risers compared to the rest of the staff, Marielle hummed a song Amon didn't know but had grown to adore in these quiet, predawn moments. Her eyes shifted toward the woman, and she smiled as she watched her work. Dark hair pulled back into a carefully crafted bun, a few strategic strands curled around her ears and cheekbones. Marielle was a lovely creature, with dewy skin and eyes filled with light.

The door opened on the other side of the kitchen, drawing both their attention toward the sound. Amon glanced at the clock where it hung over the stove and frowned. It was still early for the kitchen staff to start rising. From her vantage point, when her eyes shifted back toward the doorway, she caught sight of Marielle's face. The corners of her eyes were tight, her lips working to not press into a line despite the tension in her jaw. More telling, she'd pulled her hands away from her work to grip the edge of the kitchen's island.

Their visitor, whoever it was, was not welcome. Amon decided that quickly and she scowled at the intruder.

The man lumbered into the kitchen and gazed hungrily at Marielle first, then with a sneer toward Amon. She raised an eyebrow in response to the obvious dislike of her presence. She knew this one. One of the King's cabinet, the demon was a general. A towering, thick creature with a body built for war and a brain unsuited for tactical strategy. All at once Amon knew him to be a brawler, close combat his dear friend and it likely allowed him to appear more skilled than he actually was. She was smaller, faster and from her research, infinitely more capable.

Her hand went back into the sink, her back turning carefully on the newcomer as she mimed going back to work. She rinsed a plate and fished around the basin for what she truly sought, all the while listening to the conversation happening behind her.

"How may I be of service, sir?" Marielle offered in a quiet voice that seemed very unlike her. Amon knew that tone. It meant that Marielle feared she knew what the behemoth wanted and she was less than keen to oblige. The voice of a woman defeated by the status of her foe.

Amon waited.

"I thought you'd be alone this time of day." The general's voice held no love for the fact he was wrong. "You're too pretty to be a servant Marielle."

"I appreciate the compliment but I enjoy my work." The response was practiced, measured.

"Walk with me." His voice had lowered, a purr. "I'll show you real appreciation."

There was a moment of hesitation and Amon glanced over her shoulder to take in the pair of demons. When Marielle didn't immediately move, the general offered a sinister curl of his lips. Amon looked back down toward the dwindling bubbles in the sink.

"Maybe you'd rather an audience? Bold of you. I'm alright with that." He teased her with a bite to his tone. The sound of fabric shifting felt louder than it should.

Amon closed her eyes.

Marielle offered a quiet, pleading murmur for the general to stop.

Amon's fingers tightened around the handle of the knife she held under the water.

The general laughed, told Marielle he liked her voice that way.

Amon spun, and with enough speed that the two demons behind her were visibly surprised, she appeared between them the tip of the knife loud as it bit into the counter next to the General's hand. Close enough that he could claim she missed him.

But Amon never missed. She only offered scant chances for her enemies to retreat, allowing them the mistaken idea she was hesitant or unskilled. She was neither.

Without flinching, she stared up into the green gaze of the demon looming over her. With a gentle hand, she pushed Marielle behind her and away. Created space. Her eyes did not leave the general, her other hand wrapped around the handle of the blade.

"Move."

She stared at him with an empty expression.

He moved to walk around her and she stepped back into his way. Marielle quietly asked her to stop. To not get involved. Reminded her who she was facing.

At this, Amon smiled for the general and it was far worse than the one he'd offered Marielle moments before. She wasn't afraid. Maybe she should have been, but she wasn't.

Neither death nor pain held power over her these days, as she had long ago memorized the taste of both. This idiotic beast thought he was the largest threat in the room, perhaps the castle aside from the king. Amon had no reason to feel the same. Better, more skilled demons than him had tried to send her to an early, likely shallow, grave. None of them remained. But Amon remained. She stood firm between the living wall of heaving breaths and glowering eyes and the gentle spirit of Marielle.

"You think you're hot shit, huh?" He wrapped thick fingers around her throat, lifting. Marielle cried out. "You think because you skulk around with the king you're something else? You're nothing. You're a piece of trash he chose to recycle. Don't forget that."

Amon allowed him to hold her, his fingers bruising her neck as he held her on her toes. When she didn't react to him, didn't show fear, he growled. She very carefully wrapped her free hand around his wrist, pressing her thumb into the nerve at the base of his palm where it met wrist and twisted as his fingers were forced to open. A decent pressure point that went underutilized in her opinion. By others, obviously, not by herself.

She released him with that same empty mask on her face. This was nothing to her. She'd done worse and had worse done to her. This wasn't even a fight. It was a pissing contest.

Did she think being the King's aid made her special? No. She knew she wasn't special. She knew she was a cog in the machine of the household and little more. Her job could be done by a number of other demons. But that meant nothing to her. Just because she was replaceable didn't mean she had to treat others that way. It didn't mean she had to allow Marielle to be mistreated.

"I'm going to put you in your place." He snarled and she wondered, for a brief moment, why demons like him couldn't understand lessons. She had given him two opportunities to back down.

His fist bit into her cheek with enough force to whip her around, forcing her to lean on the counter for a moment. She was correct in her earlier assumption. He obviously had no mind for strategy because he'd laid her out right by the knife. Her hand gripped the handle and she flipped the blade around. While she would make sure he didn't underestimate her, she knew she couldn't kill him.

She'd damn sure lay his oversized ego to rest, though.

Twisting around, she shoved his arm to the side as he cast another punch, a quick decisive block that took him off guard. Using the handle of the knife, she slammed a hit into his diaphragm. Then her elbow came across his face. He swayed, unable to breathe and she grabbed him by the shirt, hauling him to her eye level so she could glare at him, lifting half her mouth in a sneer. Spinning him away from her, toward the door she used the knife's glinting point to direct him toward the exit.

He hesitated to leave and she narrowed her eyes at him, stepping toward him with the knife now ready to strike for a much harsher and dangerous injury. The general turned and left, unsteady on his feet.

"You shouldn't have done that, Amon. He'll only fight harder next time." Marielle whispered, obviously shaken.

Amon nodded, already knowing that would happen.

"He'll kill you."

At this she smiled toward the door, where Marielle couldn't see her face. Marielle had no reason to worry. The general might try to kill her, sure, but she didn't answer to him. And that made his life fair game if she was willing to face the punishment for claiming it.

Resettling her clothes, Amon strode back to the sink and went back to washing the remaining glassware with the air of a demon undisturbed. Her cheek burned and she knew it would swell, but she didn't show the discomfort. Her throat ached a bit. But she'd have done it a hundred times over. Her hatred of those who tossed their weight around like the world owed them something redoubled.

Cold brought her to stillness, only her eyes moving to the side with some shock. Marielle tutted as she pressed the ice-filled rag to Amon's cheek, her lips thin.

"You can't just leave this untreated, Amon. What sort of personal servant serves a king with a massive bruise on their face? Honestly. You're such a stubborn fool." She scolded softly and Amon grew pliable in her hands as she went about icing the bruise with care. "I'll cover the worst of it for you, if you'll let me."

Amon nodded her permission.

The list of things Amon would deny Marielle grew shorter every day.

She allowed the other woman to do her doting, her fixing and to scold her. She nodded at the correct intervals, accepting the admonishments with careful attention. She hoped it showed on her face that she was actually listening. Finally, Marielle stepped back from her and offered her a small silver pocket mirror to examine her powdered face. She'd done an exemplary job, honestly. Amon was impressed. The bruise was invisible.

Amon swallowed the questions brewing in her throat about why Marielle was so clever when it came to hiding such marks.

They'd absconded to the kitchen maid's room after the rest of the staff had begun to filter into the kitchen. Now, Amon sat on the thin mattress on its shoddy wooden frame and allowed those delicate fingers to fuss over her hair. With care, Marielle used her fingers to comb it back into a ponytail at the top of the back of Amon's head.

"That's better. Now I can actually see your face." Marielle beamed at her and Amon felt as if she'd been stabbed.

What had she ever done in her life to deserve such a smile?

It was the sort of action that sneaks into existence without permission, her kissing Marielle's knuckles. She hadn't meant to do it. She had thought about it, but she hadn't meant to actually take that small hand in her own and drag her dry lips across those soft knuckles. But it happened and she was left holding a hand that returned her grip. Slowly, with some shame and expecting to be cast aside, her blue eyes scanned upwards to find Marielle's round face.

What had stabbed her, twisted and burrowed deeper in her guts.

Marielle looked at her so warmly, using her other hand to cup Amon's cheek. Then she bowed her head and her lips passed over Amon's like a lover's sigh and all Amon could think was that she might as well die now because she would never feel this way again.

"Be more cautious, Amon." She pleaded quietly, pressing her forehead to Amon's.

Amon nodded, closing her eyes.

"We should get back to work."

There was hesitation in that remark, a dreaminess that meant they were supposed to go back to work, but neither of them wanted to. Not really. Amon nodded anyway, rising to her feet. She dropped Marielle's hand, stepped three steps toward the door then spun on heel and marched back over to the woman still standing by the bedside. Her fingers danced over Marielle's nape as pretense and when she didn't duck away, Amon kissed her not at all like a lover's sigh but like a scream in the dark. Shocking, harsh and hungry. And it was their undoing.

Fingers pulled the leather tie out of Amon's hair, worked the buttons on her jacket and her shirt. Soft sighs and mewls filled the air and Amon worked to keep her hands gentle against the soft gift of skin presented to her as Marielle's dress slipped off her shoulders and piled on the floor.

* * *

Amon felt lighter on her feet than she'd been in years as she carried a tea tray into the king's study. He was an ever moving spirit, always somewhere knew and she sort of enjoyed the hunt of guessing where he'd be awaiting her. Marielle had had to reapply the makeup to cover her bruise. Just the memory of those fingers cradling her jaw made Amon smile. With a crisp movement she entered the study without knocking. She hadn't knocked in a while, actually. It would have been more prudent if she did, but the king had told her it was a wasteful formality. He had nothing to hide.

"You're late." He commented, less angry than intrigued. "You're never late. You weren't back in the med bay were you?"

She shook her head, still greatly annoyed and amused at his obsessive need to keep her healthy. If she could speak to him, she'd let him know she felt the best she'd felt in a while actually. Instead, she sat the tray down and served up two cups of tea before uncovering a small platter of pastries. As had become habit, she took the seat across from him, bowed her head and waited for him to indulge before following his lead.

If Greyfield could see her eating with a king he'd have an embolism and die on the spot.

Amon still, very much, enjoyed daydreaming about all the ways Greyfield might die in this castle. Some dreams were more gruesome and others more whimsical. They all made her smile nonetheless.

The king regarded her, squinted it, tipped his head to the side as if he couldn't figure out the answer to something, and then glared. Finally he took his tea and sipped it before ripping into a pastry.

Amon reached over and helped herself to one.

"What happened to your neck?"

She froze. Slowly, she retracted her hand to feel her throat and closed her eyes with a grimace as she realized her top button had been left undone. He could see the marks on her throat. A foolish mistake on her part.

"Who did that to you?"

Amon shook her head. It didn't matter who did it. He should know that. She had humored many of the king's strange whims, including them eating together and her sitting up with him at night to listen to him talk to himself through her when he couldn't sleep. This, however, was not something she could allow him to handle. It would only worsen the effects.

"Don't tell me no, Amon. Tell me who did this to you." His tone rose and she felt that awful pressure of his energy rise again. It had been happening more and more since she had first sensed it. Perhaps he was more stressed than usual. Maybe he wasn't expending as much energy on the daily as he should. Either way, it made him a terrifying obstacle in some moments.

But he'd never raised his hand to her and she suspected he never would. Not unless she truly pushed him to it. He didn't seem to be hands on with any of the staff as far as she knew.

She thought about Marielle's ability to cover bruises so diligently. She thought about the rumors of the king's temper. About his disregard and disrespect for those under him before her. Then she dismissed the correlations. The king had never given her reason to doubt him.

The pressure mounted. He stood up, his eyes alight with annoyance and the twist of his mouth revealing teeth in his growing frustration.

She wanted to tell him to sit down. To control his damn temper and to behave like a damn king. This tantrum was unbecoming, especially over a servant of all things.

Greyfield's lingering rules clogged her throat.

"Do you even know how to defend yourself? Do you always let people toss you around like trash, leaving marks on you?" He demanded, his glare threatening to burn holes through her.

She didn't respond because she couldn't.

For the first time, she wondered how the king might react to her voice. He didn't second guess her laughter. Would he be shocked by the formal but airy nature of her tone? Would he expect something harsher, deeper, huskier? What did her voice even sound like anymore, now that it had been locked away for so long?

"Answer me, Amon. Can you defend yourself?" The king had moved closer to her, his glare growing darker and hotter.

It was with great alarm she felt another stab as she looked at him, another pain delivered by beauty she should not be allowed to witness let alone enjoy. Like this, furious and powerful, her king was a lovely thing.

She was in a world of trouble in this kingdom full of beautiful, lovely people.

Unlike Marielle however, this creature would never be hers. It made it a little easier to endure, in a way, knowing that she couldn't act even if she deeply wanted to.

In answer to his question, she nodded. Could she defend herself? Yes. Yes she could.

It was one of the few skills that Greyfield hadn't trained out of her. He liked that she was strong and capable, quiet and ruthless. It allowed him access to things he wouldn't have had otherwise. No one suspected a servant of being powerful. She was his favorite pet assassin, when the need called for it.

Gods, how she loved to think of all the ways she could punish him here in Alaric.

"Prove it." The king didn't give her time to react before pinning her to the study desk by her throat and left arm, his grip a vice. The action upset the teapot and the pastries, casting them over the surface of the desk. Her hand spasmed around her teacup, shattering it. Hot tea splattered over her leg, his shoe and the ground. He didn't understand. She couldn't fight him. She wasn't permitted to. When she didn't struggle, despite gripping a shard of ceramic so hard it cut into her palm, he tightened his hold. "I'm not playing with you Amon, show me you can get out of this or I will kill you."

And just like that, with that demand, she was able to move. She lifted one leg and shoved her foot into his hip, pushing him back to create enough slack in his grip that she could roll to the side. He came for her again and she swung. It was a decisive strike, one born of training and intent. The shard of the teacup pressed against the side of his throat, moving as the vein underneath pumped blood. He stared at her and she shook in place, prepared now to be punished.

She had attacked the king.

What had she been thinking?

"It'll take more than a piece of glass to do me in, Amon." The king's expression was dark, but pleased. A horrifyingly attractive and dangerous grin lifting his lips. "But maybe you'd find a way. What do you have to say to that? Could you kill me right now with that?"

What do you have to say to that, he asked. So close to a demand. So close to being able to tell him exactly what she thought. She kept her body still, her lips closed.

 _Please, just tell me to speak to you._

"What, nothing to say?" He asked a bit cruelly. When Amon narrowed her eyes and nodded he continued to grin, remaining in place where she pressed the sharp edge of the glass to his throat. "Oh, you do have something to add? I'm all ears Amon. Please, go on, tell me. Could you kill me?"

She watched him carefully and then offered him a cruel grin in return for the one he offered her. He seemed to like this reaction as he nodded slightly.

"Whether or not I can seems a far cry less important than whether or not I will, sir." Her voice was ragged from nearly a year of not being used.

The king blinked at her, eyes widening comically slow. Then, dully, he commented.

"I knew your hips were too shapely."


	7. Insomnia

**A/N: Post Halloween and I'm back from the deeeaaaaddddd. Here have a chapter of this story that isn't my main fic, or one of the other two fics people have asked me to update, hahaha. It's been a pretty good day!**

* * *

" _I knew your hips were too shapely._ "

The minute the words flew off Hiei's tongue he felt the need to bring them back into his mouth. His teeth clamped together, locking his jaw. Amon's eyebrows rose pointedly, then fell as her expression grew dull. Even though he was desperately trying not to, Hiei's eyes scanned downward then snapped back up to her face.

"What I mean by that is your face is feminine but so is Kurama's, but your hips are wider than his. I hadn't really thought much of it." Hiei looked away over his shoulder to avoid seeing the accusation in those probing blue eyes. "Now I realize it means you're not a man. Unless you are?"

He peeked at her then, to assess her response to that inquiry.

"I am not." Amon informed him curtly. "Are my hips a point of distraction for you, _sir_?"

"No." Hiei decided looking away made him appear guilty of something so he stared right at her.

For a long moment they stared at each other, neither wavering. Amon regarded him with some level of scrutiny, her eyes sliding down from his face to his feet then back up with one brow arched and her lips lightly pursed, as if she found the man before her dis-satisfactory. But then her expression changed, easing out to nothingness. The eyebrow came down to neutral position, her mouth reset as if no thoughts crossed her mind. Hiei watched as tension surged through every other part of her, her posture growing stiff.

"I," Amon started to speak and winced before swallowing, "I did not intend to lie."

It was only then that either of them seemed to remember she held a shard of ceramic to his throat as if it were a knife. Startled, Amon dropped the piece of the cup and staggered back, yanking her hand to her chest, grasped by her other hand. Blood stained the sleeve of her shirt, rolling from the cut on her palm down to her elbow. She ignored the warm wetness spreading over and out her glove. Her throat hurt from speaking finally, and from panic.

Hiei frowned at her, openly disapproving.

Amon prepared herself for the inevitable fallout.

He raised his hand.

She flinched.

"What the hell is your problem?" Hiei growled at her, yanking her hand away from her chest so he could examine her cut. "You were holding on too tight, idiot. Look at this mess."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll clean the floors immediately."

Hiei glared at her, that dangerous, dark fire lighting the crimson of his irises. She could swear she saw flames dancing in his gaze. It was too much, too hot, so she averted her gaze to the blood streaking the floor. He'd stepped in it.

"And your shoes." She tacked on, appalled at herself.

His grip on her hand tightened, his thumb digging into the meat of her palm close the edge of her wound. Biting the inside of her lip, she tried not to show her pain.

"Idiot." He repeated. "I'm not worried about the floors. Look at your hand. You could have severed a tendon."

Amon was forced to follow his directive, and she looked at the deep cut on her palm. The blood flowing out of it was dark and red. But she knew immediately that he was correct.

Every new word that rose from her throat burned her. Her voice was so desperately misused. Still, she shouldered through. "You shouldn't concern yourself with such matters, sir. You're a king. You should behave as such."

"Speaking hurts, doesn't it?" He stared at her.

For a moment, her chest tightened as she feared that he would tell her to stop talking. A demand that would not be undone until he willed it. Instead he made a dismissive sound and continued to prod and examine her wound. Amon didn't dare to pull away. Whatever his intentions, she would endure them.

"I'm a king." He rolled the words around his tongue. His voice was distant, as if the words meant nothing to him. "Maybe someday."

Hiei ignored her sudden attentive gaze as she scoured his face. Instead he focused on removing the ridiculous gloves she insisted on wearing. Slowly, one finger at a time, he pulled the accessory off of her hand and let it fall to the floor. It was already ruined, he told himself. Cut open and covered in blood. What did it matter than it landed at his feet? Surely she had more. It had been in his way too, obscuring some of the wound she'd unwittingly inflicted upon herself.

Amon's fingers were long, ending in tapered nails that formed fine points. Out of curiosity he allowed himself to slide the pad of his thumb along the tip of one nail and he was intrigued at how incredibly sharp it was. Amon allowed him all of this without complaint or comment. She didn't even try to pull away from him.

Of course she didn't, he thought to himself a little bitterly, he was her king. Who was she to pull away?

Would Amon have pulled away from Mukuro?

Hiei pulled back, dropping her hand for the moment so he could unwind the bandages on his right arm. Amon watched in rapt fascination as his dragon mark was revealed, the white binds pooling in his left hand as he unraveled them. Her eyes didn't stray from the mark even when he lifted her hand again. Not until he began to bandage her wound did she allow herself to snap her attention back to his face, horror painting her features.

Now she did try to retract. Hiei didn't let her.

"A temporary measure. No one wants blood trailing down the halls." Hiei told her firmly. "Stop fighting and accept it."

She grew still immediately, but her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It pleased him to see that underlying spark in her hadn't faded so quickly after all. He offered her what he hoped was a pleased grin.

"What sort of fighter are you, Amon? Close-combat? Distance? Weaponry? Martial artist?" Hiei decided to pull from the endless scroll of questions he had ever considered about his servant.

"I'm versed in multiple forms of combat." She informed him a little stiffly.

"Yes, but what are you skilled in?" He pushed.

That earned him a thoughtful pause. "I have had success in both close-combat and distance scenarios, sir. Back in my day, I was actually quite skilled in archery and as a swordsman."

"Swordsman." Hiei considered that with glee. "Perhaps I'll see you in action sometime."

"If you wish it." She nodded. "Though I am quite rusty. Most masters would not consider the idea of allowing a servant a weapon."

"We do things differently here in Alaric." He told her with a smirk, tying off her bandage. "We like our servants to have a spine and fire in their eyes."

Amon nodded, pulled her hand to her chest again and cupping it with her other.

"Why do you wear the gloves?" He questioned, eying the disregarded garment now thoroughly ruined by blood and the tear.

She offered him a look of sheer perplexion. He waited for her to answer him instead of looking at him as if he'd asked her what color the blood on the floor was.

"To hide my hands." She finally told him, confusion lacing the slow syllables of her response. Her blue eyes were carefully watching his face, eyebrows pulled together just enough to give away her concern.

Hiei raised an eyebrow and motioned with her hand for her to elaborate. Why would anyone hide their hands?

Was she touch averse? Kuwabara had shot that one at Hiei once, claiming that was part of a larger underlying issue surrounding his 'deep rooted intimacy issues'. Hiei hated talking to Kuwabara doubly as much ever since he had gone to college.

Kurama got a good chuckle from it though. The bastard.

"Because of my nails." Amon curled her hands closer to her chest as if protecting them. "They're all I have to defend myself. I don't want to cut them."

That earned a long blink from Hiei. "Cut...Cut your nails?"

She was so glad he had phrased that as a question, but her eyes narrowed nonetheless in warning as she regarded him with heavy suspicion.

"They're all I have." She repeated to him, tone bordering on dangerous.

"Yes, you said that. What the hell does that mean?" Hiei shook his head. "Why would anyone care about your damn fingernails?"

He meant it. He was generally at a loss for her defensiveness.

"Servants aren't allowed weapons. They cannot be trusted to exercise the correct judgement of when to appropriately wield them. Servants should be presentable at all times, coiffed and silent, ready to serve, not distracted by petty notions of self-security or safety." Amon worked through the words despite the growing discomfort in her throat. It burned to talk, her throat sore and dry. She should have stopped by now, but she couldn't. "My nails are unkempt, as long as they are. Unpresentable. But they're all I have."

"So you hide them." Hiei inhaled deeply, nodding, then pushed the breath out in a sigh. "Fine. Keep your gloves and your nails.l I don't care. Just go get your hand fixed up before you tear something important in it."

The dismissal made her nod, turning on heel. She left and Hiei took the moment alone to take stock of the mess he'd made of the room. Blood on the floor, the desk. Tea everywhere. Shards of the teapot and cups scattered over the desk and floor.

He decided this was a problem he could deal with later.

* * *

It was that time of night where Hiei couldn't ignore the ghosts haunting him and the castle. His mind kept spinning in circles, tighter and tighter, until images and thoughts bled to together and mixed up and everything became a blurry useless mess. He sat up and propped his arm up on knee. He waited.

When the ghosts got loud, Amon always somehow knew. She would walk into his room with her midnight tea and small snack and listen to him. He never heard coming, but the door made noise when opened and that was his cue. Except, after a few minutes of waiting in the dark, he realized she wasn't coming. What had happened? Was she down in the infirmary still?

After dragging himself out bed, into pants, he took to roaming the halls like a restless spirit himself. Maybe he would do what he did before Amon arrived. He could go to Mukuro's grave and yell at her for dying.

That never made him feel better though.

A light slanting from a doorway down the hall earned his attention so he walked toward it, feet bare against the cool stone floor. Who was in the office this time of night? Everyone knew to stay out of his spaces. Quietly, palm against the door's surface, he pushed it open.

Amon had on a new pair of gloves and dirty pants, her hair piled on the back of her head in a messy bun. And beside her Marielle, the kitchen girl. Hiei watched them for a minute as they scrubbed the dry blood from the floors.

"The king will be up soon." Amon announced quietly. "I'll need to fetch his tea."

"You're still going to go into his room after he did this to you?" Marielle seemed appalled at the suggestion. "Amon, allow me to handle him tonight."

"I did it to myself." Amon wiped at a spot after scrubbing it, pulling back to examine her work. "The king was merely trying to prove a point about my defenselessness. He meant no true harm."

"You didn't look so defenseless this morning." Marielle pointed out.

Hiei frowned. This morning? Is that when she had received those bruises? And now he could see more marks, these ones coloring her face.

"You shouldn't trust him so much, Amon. I know that you're new here, and he's been fairly tame so far, but honestly, Hiei is a little bit of a monster. He has been since he arrived. He's ruthless and vicious. That's why Mukuro chose him." Marielle explained. "I worry about how you spending so much time alone with him. Sooner or later, he will hurt you, and it won't be to out of benevolence."

Hiei tightened, teeth grinding together.

"Referring to the king by his name is improper." Amon responded, distracted.

"Amon," Marielle sighed.

"I'm done. You should return to your room. Thank you for your help." Amon rose to her feet then help Marielle, holding her hand. After agreeing the other woman tiptoed and placed a kiss on Amon's cheek.

"Be careful with him. Please. I don't want to have to scrub your blood off any more floors."

Before Marielle could leave the office Hiei disappeared back to his room, fuming and also annoyed with the guilt coupled to his anger. The staff felt him a monster, all except Amon. How long until she shared their sentiments? He began pacing, hands behind his back, agitation eating at him. This wasn't going to work. It just wasn't.. And seeing Amon today wasn't going to help.

He grabbed his shoes and shoved his feet into them, not bothering with any other attire.

Yelling at Mukuro's grave might not make him feel better, but it sure as well would be more comforting than staying in this castle.

* * *

Mukuro's memorial was understated. Black, polished stone with flecks of silver and blue. The lines of her name had been carved from the face of the slab and underneath that the epithet: King of Alaric. Hiei had stared at those words for a long time when they were still fresh, the stone completely unweathered. Now, he stared again. And just like th first time, and every time since, he was alone.

King of Alaric.

How he wished that were still true. If Mukuro surprised him right then, announcing the last year had been some sort of cruel test, Hiei would be furious. But he'd forgive her. He craved that moment desperately, so he could pass the mantel back to her, where it belonged.

Of course, Mukuro wasn't going to surprise him. He had seen the body. He wouldn't believe anyone about her death until he saw her with his own eyes.

She wasn't coming back.

When Yusuke and Kurama had showed up for her funeral, Hiei had snarked that he should melt down the metal half of her into a sword so part of her could be useful for once. Neither of them bothered to tell him what an awful thing to say that had been. He didn't need them to act as his conscience on that one. He knew it was terrible, but he said it anyway, because the whole damn thing was terrible. He refused to attend the actual funeral. Yusuke had asked him if he was really okay with that, with not saying goodbye. Hiei had responded that why should he bother saying goodbye to the woman when she couldn't even do him the courtesy of surviving.

He hadn't seen Kurama or Yusuke since. He hadn't been to Human World since either.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Drained by his memories and his anger, Hiei sank down to the ground and settled himself against the black slab, his bare shoulders pressed to the cool, smooth surface. In his haste to get out of the castle he never bothered to grab a shirt or his cloak. He studied his hands.

These were the same hands that had pinned Amon to the desk. The hands that had caused her cut open her palm just so she could defend herself against him. Were they the hands of a king? Or the hands of a monster? Were those titles so different, really? He remembered Amon's hands. Long fingers. Sharp nails. Clean. Pale skin. Fairly soft, for someone who lived in the service industry. The opposite of his calloused, rough, blood soaked fingers turned golden brown by constant sun exposure along with the rest of him.

With his head tipped down, and the sound of the wind and thunder growing loud enough to drown his thoughts, Hiei let sleep claim him, glad to be rid of reality for a few merciful hours.

* * *

It had taken some time to find the king once Amon had discovered that his chambers were empty. Carrying the tea tray from room to room, she checked all of his usual haunts. It wasn't until a guard tipped her off that she got any direction at all in her search.

"He's probably at the memorial."

Amon found him quickly after that, umbrella in one hand and tray balanced on the other. She had changed from the dirty clothes she'd worn to scrub floors into one of her clean three piece suits. Her hair was back in it's usual ponytail, her hands safely hidden under black leather gloves. The storm that had been pressing closer and closer throughout the night had finally rolled in, filling the castle halls with the heavy drumbeat of swollen raindrops. The memorial however, was not within the echoing halls. Out here, the water pooled into misshapen puddles due to the uneven ground. Very quickly Amon found her shoes soaked through and coated in mud. She didn't mind.

No lights touched this carved out sanctuary. Still, she had no problem seeing. Picking her way to the memorial stone was easy work. She didn't even upset the cups on the tea tray.

The king was wet through, his hair stuck to his white bandana which had grown nearly translucent, to his cheeks and to the back of his neck. It seemed longer this way, pressed down by the weight of the storm.

Amon mentally scolded herself directly after wistfully wishing she could touch those dark strands.

How he had managed to sleep so soundly through this deluge, she wasn't quite sure. It seemed her wild king was at home in the elements. And half-naked. She shook her head.

Setting the tray on the ground beside the king, she knelt. The tea and snacks would do him little good lost to the world as he was. But still. She was supposed to look after him. So she fixed the umbrella into place so it would protect his head. Then she unbuttoned and removed her jacket before it got too wet, draping it across the man's front so it at least covered his chest. Not perfect, but better. Grabbing a soggy tea sandwich and a thoroughly cooled cup of tea, Amon settled in at the king's side, her button down and vest and slacks already as completely soaked as her formerly shining shoes.

The rain had never bothered her. Ever since she was renegade spirited child she had adored storms. The sang to her, in their own way.

* * *

Hiei awoke slowly. The kind of relaxed restarting of his body and senses that he only ever experienced when swathed in the profound safety of being surrounded by his closest companions. For a single moment he thought he might be back in Human World, lounging out of sight on Genkai's spacious estate. Then he heard the tapping of droplets against fabric and that was enough to tell him he wasn't where he had thought he was.

Dragging himself fully back into consciousness, he allowed his covering to pool into his lap. A jacket, definitely not his own. It was far too narrow in the shoulders for his build. Plus it had button. He hated clothes with buttons, he always popped them off.

Turning to the side he studied Amon in that half-dream way sometimes one being sees another. As though she, or he, might not actually be real. Or maybe this moment wasn't real. Experiencing life through a foggy lens. The rain had drenched her. He could see the outline of her collarbone through the white of her shirt. The material clung to her arms and shoulders. Tiny drops of water collected on her eyelashes as she looked up into the unforgiving sky pouring it's burdens down on them. He wished there was color in this picture, instead of the greyscale of deep night. She looked charming, with that little smile on her face and a look of calm in her eyes, sitting in the mud with her suit pants and her collared shirt and her buttoned vest.

"Why are you here?" Hiei asked her, realizing gradually that this wasn't still a dream after all.

Amon took a moment to answer, closing her eyes to inhale deeply the scent of wet earth and wet skin. When she turned to face him, it was with a dangerously soft smile.

"Because it's where you are." She told him like it was the simplest thing in the world.

And Hiei believed she meant it.


	8. Fugue

**A/N: Semi-consistent updates? From moi? What has the world come to, hahaha. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

"Doesn't the rain bother you?" Hiei asked Amon.

They stood together, umbrella closed, gazes held captive by the name engraved in the smooth black stone of Mukuro's memorial. Rain weighed down their hair, their clothes, but the drops beaded against their skin. Steam rose from the ground, fog moving into their little alcove of solitude.

"Rain has never bothered me much. In fact, I quite enjoy a good storm." Amon lifted her attention upwards then closed her eyes as the rain bathed her face. She smiled up to the clouds.

Hiei forgot to mourn for a moment as he watched her.

She looked natural like this, dirty and smiling in the rain.

He swallowed and forced himself to stare back down at the memorial.

Neither of them spoke for a long while. Hiei wasn't sure how long they stood there together in the downpour. No matter how long he stood, Amon continued to wait beside him. He felt an odd sense of affection at her loyalty. It swelled in his chest and for a few peaceful minutes he was okay with being king. The feeling faded.

Amon watched her king as he paid his respects. He stood still before the memorial for such a long time. He must have truly loved the woman the stone represented. Amon understood that loss well enough. She wanted to reach for him, to wrap her arms around him in an embrace like she would have done for her sister so many years before, but she restrained herself. No matter the time they stood together, he was still the king and she was still the servant. It was, hopefully, enough that she was here at his side.

He was a lovely thing in the rain, she told herself. It softened his edges, as it did with most things. Water had the habit of rolling stones smooth and it seemed her haughty king's rough edges were not immune. He displayed so little of himself at any moment so seeing him like this, reticent, was nearly charming were it not so sad.

Somehow, her fingers wound around his wrist, squeezing to offer comfort.

He turned his head and looked down at where she touched him. Quickly, she removed her hand pulled it back to her side.

She had overstepped in a moment of emotional abandon. She could not forget herself.

"Did you know Mukuro?" He asked her, catching her with that glowing crimson stare.

"I knew of her." Amon offered without much inflection. "I was never permitted to meet her myself."

"Permitted?" Hiei quirked a brow.

"I don't mean to presume to tell you what to do, m'lord, but perhaps you should consider returning to your room to rest. Your schedule tomorrow is quite full." Amon dodged his hinted request for her expound on her statement.

"I never officially gave you the job of being my personal aide did I, Amon?" He asked after nodding. She followed as he turned himself toward the castle proper.

"No, sir, you did not. I notice you lacked a personal attendant so I assumed those duties in an attempt to lessen your burdens. However, if you've chosen a more fitting candidate for the station, I would like to train them on the particulars."

Hiei snorted at that. "More fitting than you, Amon? You're either too modest or you're kissing my ass. Either way, stop it. The position is yours."

"Thank you sir, I will endeavor not to disappoint." Amon bowed to him.

"Stop doing that too." Hiei frowned. "No one bows here. Have you seen anyone else bow? Why do you do that?"

"It's the expectation of a servant. Just because the rest of the staff are untrained doesn't mean I have to delve down to their level." She raised herself with a dull expression.

"Ah, so you feel all the staff is inadequately trained?" Hiei crossed his arms.

"There is always room for improvement, sir."

"Even Marielle?"

Amon pressed her lips thin for a moment before offering, "Marielle is an exception to many rules in my mind, sir."

"I picked up on that. I saw you two together in my office."

"Apologies sir." She offered another bow of her head.

"I don't care what you do in your spare time, Amon." Hiei sighed. "Just don't let it interfere with your work. I can't exactly say what you do around here, but whatever it is, it's obviously necessary. Whenever you're not here everything falls apart."

"What would you like me to do for you?" Amon asked him, following obediently as he made his way back to his room. "As your personal attendant, that is. It would be best for me to know what your expectations are so I can meet them."

A rarity for her, to ask her master what she needed to do. Greyfield would have chosen a plethora of cruelities for her to endure. She trusted her king to treat her more respectfully. That in and of itself was amazing to her. The idea of trusting another master this way, it had seemed impossible months ago. Now it seemed only right.

"Whatever you're doing now is fine. Just keep yourself available in case I need you." Hiei told her.

"Understood sir. I am completely at your disposal." Amon stood outside his door as he pushed it open.

Hiei crossed the threshold before turning back to look at her. Here in the hall lights the water reflected off her cheek bones and her eyes seemed suddenly far more intense. Her hair was darker for being wet and it stuck to her checks and forehead and clung to her neck and shoulders for how much it had grown since she had arrived. Her ruined suit stuck to her body, hinting at an outline of her form.

"Go get new clothes to your liking. You were the same three suits all the time." Hiei told her. "That's your next task."

"Thank you." Amon bowed her head, caught herself and turned it into a nod. "I'll have your clothes ready by morning, sire. You should be presentable for your meeting."

"Are you saying my clothing isn't presentable." Hiei challenged.

"Perhaps Mukuro would walk into meetings covered in muck or sweat, but my hopes for you are higher." Amon explained. "In you I see a king of great esteem. It would be lovely for you to dress the part when representing the kingdom."

Hiei smirked. "That's a talent. Telling me what to do while making it sound like you're merely inflating my ego."

"You see through me." Amon returned a smile.

"I'll dress in whatever you set out." Hiei nodded. "Go rest, Amon. We've both had longer days than usual."

* * *

"I cannot believe you still consort with him." Marielle spoke under her breath, kneading dough while Amon chopped vegetables at her side. "After what he did. Honestly Amon, are you a glutton for punishment?"

"The king did nothing." Amon shook her head, barely watching the knife as she expertly chopped. "He merely wanted me to assert myself."

"By attacking you." Marielle ducked her head toward Amon's. "Please, Amon, tell me you won't continue to feed into his whims."

"He made me his personal attendant." Amon shook her head. "It's my job to feed into his whims. Honestly, he is not nearly as despicable as everyone would have you believe."

The image of the king staring down at the memorial of his lost mentor struck her suddenly and unforgivingly. Amon swallowed.

"We all have chances to grow and change, Marielle. Do not forget to allow for that when you regard the king." Amon told her.

"He kept you out all night in the rain and now has you up so early preparing a meal for the guests he probably couldn't name. Yes, that seems entirely benevolent."

"I chose to stand with him and I am choosing to prepare this meal." Amon snapped and Marielle blinked in surprise. Amon, too, seemed startled by her own outburst.

She chose? When was the last she had been to say such a thing with any amount of certainty? It had flown off her tongue without hesitation. She had chosen to stand beside the king by Mukuro's memorial. She had chosen to wake early to prepare this meal, to press his laundry, to be sure the castle was in order. These things were not demanded of her. She had decided, on her own, to do them.

On her own.

Without orders.

Her blood sung with glee at the mere idea of it. She had made her own choice and it had been without influence of anyone's orders. She was merely acting in the way that she felt would best support the kingdom and castle, the king. Oh, it felt so good to realize that this was all her own doing. It tasted of freedom, surprisingly sweet and a treat she would rarely be able to indulge in. She savored the flavor.

"I didn't mean to speak so harshly. I'm sorry." Amon told the woman beside her. "I just wish you would trust in my judgment."

"I do." Marielle frowned. "It's just, the king is… he's an exception."

"I described you the same way to him last night." Amon told her with a slight smile. "Thank you for doing my makeup again this morning. I don't think I ever extended my appreciation to you."

"Oh, you appreciated me plenty." Marielle giggled and blushed. "You cannot serve the king and his guests looking like the loser of a brawl."

"I never lose." Amon responded seriously.

Marielle blinked, then nodded.

* * *

Amon stood silently against the wall behind the king's chair as he conversed with his guests. Some visitors from another land. Amon was familiar with them. They hailed from a semi-prosperous place full of big ideas and dreams of aligning with the major territories so they could be garnered protection. Pitiful lot, in her opinion. If they weren't strong enough to stand on their own what was the point of claiming themselves as an independent nation? Perhaps they should have merged with one of the territories instead of merely seeking out ally-ship.

The kitchen staff brought in the lunch she had meticulously designed. Her eyes watched as they laid it out in exactly the order she had demanded. These visitors were particular. Nothing could go wrong. She would not allow the king's name to be sullied because of sloppy work. When the staff finished offering the meal, they looked to her. A single nod confirmed they had done it all to expectation. One by one the erroneous staff filtered from the room.

"A beautiful spread." The leader of the group offered. "We are impressed with your thoughtfulness."

Hiei glanced back at Amon and she offered a subtle nod to confirm this was planned. He turned back to the others. "You sound surprised that we would prepare such a satisfactory meal."

"No offense meant, King Hiei. It is simply that your predecessor had never met with us, and she definitely never prepared us such a specifically delicious meal."

"I am not Mukuro." Hiei growled the words, fist curling against the table.

The group exchanged looks, confusion and concern obvious amongst them.

Amon stepped closer to the king's chair, her hand resting on it's back. Then she snatched his plate from in front of him, moving to fill it. After setting it back before him, her eyes locked onto his for a second. With a bow of her head, she went back to standing just behind his chair, hands behind her back.

"Are you not going to serve us all?" One of the men at the table complained. "How rude."

Amon started, then nodded and moved to step in his direction. The king's voice stilled her.

"Amon isn't here to serve you. Serve yourselves. You're guests here. This is Amon's home." Hiei glared at the visitor who had dared speak up. "Unless you are too self-important to prepare your own plates when offered such a feast despite the fact you're here to ask for my help and offer nothing in return."

Blue eyes blinked as Amon retracted, her attention moving to the king's face. He was serious, glowering at their guests. Part of her wanted to shake her head at the display of uncouth behavior. The rest of her smiled, outright, at his assertiveness and lack of decorum. It was refreshing.

She could work with this.

"You were Greyfield's thing before, weren't you? He seemed so fond of you. Has he sold you off?"

The question ruined whatever small amount of happiness Amon had been able to cultivate. Her blood sank to the floorboards at the sound of Greyfield's name. Feeling trapped, she turned to the man who had spoken with the dead-eyed stare she felt had permanently graced her face during her service to Greyfield. With the realization that these men knew her came every memory that she had been shoving down since she had arrived. Everything she had unlearned sprang back to the forefront. Her stomach rolled. She couldn't react. Stuck still in time and space, she merely existed in the aftermath of the question.

Hiei looked from Amon to the man who had spoken, curious about what he was talking about. But Amon's reaction was hardly short of horrified. Perhaps better described it was terrified. She seized up. Everything he had seen her grow into in her months serving him disappeared and she was suddenly a husk of herself. Even less than she had been in the prison cell that had brought them together.

He had no choice but to take the reins of the conversation.

"I don't know who Greyfield is, but Amon is my personal servant now. You'd do well to refer to them with more respect and a less glib tone." Hiei warned.

His voice seemed to thaw the stress out of Amon's muscles a bit, as she visibly relaxed. Her eyes closed while she recollected herself.

"I didn't mean offense. Simply, we have seen him before." The man gestured toward her. "Greyfield was a dear friend of ours. Amon seemed to be his favorite slave. It's surprising to see that he would let him go."

Hiei glanced at Amon then, trying to read her expression. Nothing.

"He was fond of the whip wasn't he?" The same man turned to another in their group. "Oh, he adored that contraption. And Amon was stellar at accepting the brunt of his punishments wasn't he? Never even reacted, truly. It was something to behold."

Hiei tasted copper.

"That man's fortitude when it comes to accepting pain is something else." The same man, the leader of them all, spoke. "I assume you have tested his limits? Have you found the boundary, then?"

A headache threatened to overtake Hiei's senses, blooming from his temples and from behind the Jagan. He was restraining himself. Oh, how he could just kill them all. How he wanted to. Mukuro's voice told him to behave. His eyes strayed toward Amon. She was a statue with glass eyes, nothing about her spoke of life. He glanced at her gloved hands, noting how tightly her fists were curled. Faintly, she shook. Sweat had broken out on her temples.

"You must have a firm hand yourself to have removed his shackles. The last time I saw him freed was in the arena."

"Oh, I saw that fight." One of the other diplomats announced. "Indeed, you must have proven to be quite the competent owner to have such control over this one. I would never let a beast like that wander freely."

A beast? Amon? Hiei couldn't fathom it. When he glanced at her again, she caught him. Something in her expression tasted of finality. The eyes of a being who had nothing left worth fighting for. She shifted her attention away from him in that way one does when they don't want to see what someone else is feeling. Did she think he was buying into this?

"Amon hasn't required any handling actually." Hiei spoke firmly, his fingers resting dangerously close to his dinner knife.

"I suppose Greyfield may have finally broken him. I suppose even the most spirited slave is eventually bound to give up." The head of the party waved a hand through the air. "Perhaps that's why he got rid of him."

"We don't have slaves in Alaric." Hiei leveled the man with a stare.

"You have at least one." The man retorted easily.

Hiei wanted to know exactly who the hell this Greyfield was and what the hell he had done to Amon with whips and arenas. Amon hardly seemed fit for combat. Yes, he knew she had said she was trained but she had refused to defend herself against him and whatever brute had bruised her face. Who would possibly derive such pleasure from beating a creature who couldn't, or wouldn't, fight back?

"Amon, you're dismissed. I'll find you when I need you." Hiei didn't look at her as he delivered the terse order.

He received a bow in response before Amon promptly left the room. Once the door closed Hiei allowed his anger to show clear as day on his face.

"I want to be clear about this. You will not come into _my_ castle and harass _my_ staff. I don't care how you know Amon. I don't care what Greyfield did. If any of you so much as _think_ about mentioning such disgusting past matters again I will personally see to it that your last moments are spent begging for mercy that will never come to you." Hiei leaned back in his chair with a glower. "Obviously Mukuro made the right choice in not aligning herself with your filth. Ge the hell out of my territory before I have you delivered home in pieces."

* * *

Amon wasn't sure where she was going but it was as far away from that dining hall as possible apparently. Her body felt as though it had fallen asleep. The king's dismissal filled her with such a sense of emptiness it robbed her of conscious action. As though she were waking from sleep walking, she blinked in confusion and tried to understand where she was and how she had gotten there.

The baths.

She was standing in front of the mirror she had looked into so very often since coming to the castle. This was where she had taken her fist bath in months. She had stood right in this spot and studied herself, taking stock of her scars and marks. Now she stared into the empty blue eyes of an impostor. No amount of washing or dressing or growing her hair could change what she was. Those men had proved as much with their glib recanting of her turmoil.

A slave.

A beast.

A monster.

Nothing.

She was nothing. A thing. Greyfield's favorite toy.

Her mind did what it did best in these moments. It shoved her away, locking her behind a wall of glass and fog where she could be safe from herself and the world. Safe from the memories and the pain and the self-hatred that came with both. She ceased to exist then.

When Amon came to, she was cold to her bones. Glass littered the floor, shards of it clung to her pants. The mirror was shattered. Her hand was bleeding, jagged edges of glass embedded in her knuckles. She expected it to hurt, to sting, but it didn't. It was all just cold. Her own body felt far away from her. She knew she was in it, maneuvering it, yet none of it felt real.

One foot still in the fog, she rose and began walking with no particular destination in mind. Everything felt like a dream, so she decided it was just that. A dream. It was all strange, ethereal. And she was still cold.

So cold.

"I heard those idiots put you in your place before the king dismissed them. Aren't you ashamed to continuously embarrass him?"

Amon stopped and turned sluggishly toward the speaker. She knew his face. The general who had tired to hurt Marielle. What was his name? Oh yes, Yashishi. She had no idea why he would be in her dream, so she stared for just a moment to assess him then began walking again.

He was inconsequential.

She wanted to get warm.

Wasn't she looking for something? She couldn't remember.

"Don't you dare ignore me!" Thick fingers spun her around by her arm. "You still don't get it, do you? I'm going to beat some respect into you since Hiei won't."

Even in her dreams the staff of the castle were mouthy when it came to using the king's name freely. Amon laid her eyes on his fingers, unresponsive to his threat. Deliberately, she grabbed his wrist, forcefully removing his hand from her person.

"Even fools should know that a hall is no place for a fight." She spoke through the haze. Even the sound of her voice was distant to her ears.

What a strange dream this was, truly. What had she been doing? Looking for something?

"Fine." Yashishi towered over her with what she supposed was menace. "Then we'll do this properly. In the training room. At least then no one will have to clean you filthy blood from the stone floors."

A pang of warmth struck her and faded immediately at his challenge.

Perhaps she was looking for him after all.

"If you insist." Amon turned away from him to see where her dream carried her next. All the halls flowed together, the faces and rooms useless blurs. Time was meaningless, as it was in all dreams. How odd, she thought to herself, that she was still so very cold. Maybe it was because she had forgotten her body somewhere.

Where was she again?

"Don't do this."

Amon blinked. Marielle held her face like it was fragile, nearly in tears for her concern. Amon wondered why she could feel those usually soft palms as they cupped her cheeks. The cold seemed to thick for Marielle's touch to reach through. Amon realized she was stooping to allow the smaller woman to hold her so dearly.

"You're such a lovely vision, aren't you?" Amon studied Marielle before reaching out to brush her fingers through the other woman's hair. She wanted to feel that spark she had felt earlier, or perhaps, at least, that heat she had shared with Marielle in her room. Nothing came.

Dreams were such fickle things.

"So lovely, but you're not what I'm looking for, I think." Amon stepped back and shifted her focus to her surroundings. Dangerous beings leered at them. "My mind is no place for beautiful things. I could not stand to see you broken."

"Amon?" Marielle called, confused. "What does that mean, Amon?"

"That's not my name." Amon moved around her, avoiding the gentle fingers that reached out to grab her.

She wasn't sure when she had arrived down in the caverns under the castle. The training, as they called it, was filed with faces and bodies all moving restlessly. The air was thick with mingled energies and excitement. Her eyes scanned over the crowd without focus. Meaningless, all of them. None of them mattered.

Hadn't she come here for someone?

Who was she here for again?

"I hope you're ready to learn your lesson."

Ah, yes. That's right. The general.

Amon turned to assess her opponent. The crowd had formed a circle around the two of them, allowing both demons a wide berth. Marielle cried out Amon's name, begging her to stop. Amon ignored her.

"After I beat yo uto death, I think I'll go comfort Marielle myself. What do you think about that?" Yashishi licked his lips. "Does that fill you with fear?"

"Fear?" Amon tried to feel it, but nothing came. "No. Perhaps it would if I felt you were capable of winning."

"Bitch." He spit with a sneer.

"Also not my name." She looked away from him. "Are they all here to watch you lose your pride? Seems awful rude of them."

"Enough!" He hosited her to her toes by her shirt front. His fist slammed into her mouth once then twice.

In her dreams, the collar was useless. It held no power. Yet, Amon still used those first two impacts to attempt to remember if she was allowed to fight back. The memory of the king pinning her to his desk, and their subsequent conversation, made the answer clear. When Yashishi went to hit her a third time she caught his fight. Her foot came up, the heel of it landing just above his left knee. His weight dropped as his leg buckled. Amon used that opening to land a harsh left hook across his face.

The crowd roared and Amon hoped she would wake up soon.

* * *

Hiei checked the kitchen for the third time. Where the hell had Amon gone now? No one would admit to knowing her whereabouts, but he knew they knew. Their fidgeting gave them all away, the cowards. He asked after Marielle too. That earned him more shifting feet and guilty, nervous glances.

So the two of them were together somewhere. Of course they were. Hiei did well hiding his annoyance. Fine. Now the question became where had the two of them gone? He checked around the servants' quarters and found no trace of the two women. No matter where he checked, there were no clues. Not even a stray strand of red hair. His annoyance mounted until he found the blood trailing through the halls. Hiei followed it down into the decommissioned cells in the bottom of the castle. The prison, and it's inhabitants, had long before been moved to a separate facility. No one came down here anymore, not even him. The blood led him to a bathroom he didn't even know existed. Blood and glass mingled on the floor. Crouching, he examined the bits of broken mirror. The blood smelled like Amon's.

What had she been doing down here?

He followed the train back through the halls. The drops had begun to coagulate. Not fresh. But not old enough to be dry either. When he grew close to the training room he heard raucous chanting and yelling. Two names cut through the air. That of one of his general's, Yashishi. The other, Amon's.

He pushed the door open quietly, stepping out to look down on the fight happening on the cavern floor.

…

The crowd's cheers barely registered as intelligible to Amon's ears. It was mostly noise. A taunt broke through a few times. Nothing of substance.

Blood ruined the vision in her right eye. The taste of copper filled her mouth until she spit a glob of blood to the side. Her body continued to hum with cold emptiness. She was a tundra devoid of life, inhospitable. Swinging her leg through the air her crescent kick took Yashishi off his feet. Without hesitation she followed him down, straddling his hips.

That incomprehensible roar grew louder around them.

"You're nothing." The general spat at her. "You don't have what it takes to kill me."

Suddenly Yashishi ceased to be himself. Instead, it was Greyfield trying to wrestle her off of him. Greyfield spouting insults. Greyfield at her mercy.

" _You're incapable of killing me, Amon. I own you. Mind, body and blood-soaked soul. You're mine."_

The cold grew biting, howling. Snarling, filled with icy pain and rage, she dropped her fist against the man's face. Blood splattered against her cheeks with every repeated strike she landed. The hands pushing at her to get her off fell by the wayside, unmoving. She didn't stop. The noise around her grew to a fever pitch. She would not let him get up. Never again. He would never own her again. She wouldn't allow it. She wouldn't allow-

It all rushed to a stop.

The noise. Her arm. The dream. The cold. All of it.

"He's not getting up, Amon. You've done enough." The king's voice, hot against her ear, broke through everything. The fog dissipated, her bones thawed then grew molten. The quiet remained but without notice she was cast back into her body full force. Reality snapped back into place, her along with it.

"You're what I've been looking for. You're real." Amon whispered, grounding herself through the king's presence.

The king's fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her arm above her shoulder to prevent her from landing another hit. One of his arms, thick with muscle, wound around her neck to hold her in place. She didn't dare move.

Being thrust back into her body had a price. All at once, her body remembered every single hit it had endured this fight. Her mouth tasted metallic and bitter. The air smelled of sea salt and her eyes stung. Horror clawed upwards through the cracked glass of her mind. The king had shattered her inner cage, bringing her to her senses, but he had also let out what she had been avoiding. The fear. The truth.

The face of the man under her was unrecognizable. She had caved in so much of the skull there would never be any putting it back together. The damage had been irreversibly done. Bile rose, burning her throat.

Not again, she though, stricken.

Another life taken by her hands. Only this time, she could not blame Greyfield. She had done this brutal thing. This carnage was hers to claim. There was no denying it. She was the very thing those men had claimed her to be. A monster, a beast. Something that needed to be locked up and contained.

"Everyone who wants to live to see tomorrow get out of my sight." Hiei released Amon, accepting her submission as proof she was no longer a threat.

The crowd feld, all but Marielle who lingered while wringing her hands together. Hiei stared at her for a few long seconds before turning away to handle Amon. The redhead had made no effort to move or flee. He crouched beside her.

"I killed him." Amon whispered. "Look at what I've done."

Her eyes rose and skimmed over Hiei to land on Marielle. With a grimace she averted her attention quickly, looking down at her bloody gloves instead of the other woman. Hiei glanced over at Marielle too. Her mouth hung open with fear, and it twisted with disgust. Not what Amon needed to see on her lover's face, Hiei decided.

"I thought I told everyone to leave." Hiei growled. "That includes you."

"Are you going to-"

"I said go." Hiei turned to glare at her, snarling the words. "I will not tell you again."

"Don't take it out on her. It's not her fault. She worries." Amon's quiet voice told him. "She's doing her best to be brave."

With a few degrees less heat, Hiei looked at Marielle again. "Go. Now."

She listened this time, no more questions. Running towards the stairs she only paused for a brief moment before fleeing through the door, allowing it to fall closed behind her.

Amon looked up at the sound of the door closing. Quietly she asked, "Why did you send her away?"

"To spare you her judgments." He responded honestly. "We monsters never like to see the truth in their eyes."

Amon bowed her head, hair falling to shield her face from him. Hiei wanted to see what expression she was hiding from him, so he reached over and held her hair back from her face. The action seemed to trigger something in her he had yet to experience. With raw emotion, she met his gaze with her own. Unlike with Marielle she didn't look away from him in shame. Instead her eyes watered.

Hiei fell onto his backside as Amon twisted and fell against him, her arms winding around his middle as her tear-streaked face found a home against his chest. He didn't know how to react to the outburst or the hug. Tension racked his body. He didn't return the embrace, but he didn't retract either. Though he wanted to. This was all very uncomfortable for him.

With a water clogged throat, Amon sobbed to him words that made him wish he were better at this sort of thing. He wanted to offer some sense of comfort, but couldn't figure out how as she told him, "Thank you, sire, for bringing me out of that awful cold."


	9. Selcouth

Hiei sat still for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the body that sagged against his own. Amon's tears still streaked down her face, cutting through the dirt that had dusted up during her fight and the blood that had splashed up against her cheeks, but her eyes were closed, her split-lips parted in her sleep. Just like that she'd gone from thanking him to passing out on him, literally.

Eyebrow ticking, Hiei pushed her off him, allowing her to roll to the ground. She accepted this adjustment like a rag doll, limbs loose and wayward as she lay there. One of her eyes had nearly swollen shut now, an angry purple. Blood trickled from a cut above her eyebrow that would likely scar. Her jacket had been cast off. Her vest and shirt had been torn open. Both were stained with earth stained red. Those smears would never wash free of the fabric. That's why he'd given up on wearing white, or any lighter color for that matter. He glanced at her, then he stood up and walked over to what was left of Yashishi to examine the extent of the damage Amon had done before he'd stopped her.

Bruises decorated the body. Hard hits to all the key points. Hiei lifted the general's shirt to assess the state of his torso. Solar plexus nearly black for the bruising, ribs mildly deformed. He picked up the arms and turned them this way and that. Broken knuckles, a limp wrist that was surely broken. Marks consistent with blocking strikes that were clearly more powerful than he'd expected them to be. One of legs was bruised above the knee, the knee joint itself a little off to the side of where it was meant to be. No sign of being slashed at though, which was curious to Hiei. Amon had been so firm that her only defense was her nails, and yet when it came down to fighting she was definitely more of a brawler.

She hadn't even bothered to take her gloves off.

And Yashishi's head. Pieces. Viscera and gore leaked out of his skull. Hiei avoided stepping on an eyeball that had rolled free. Shards of skull had flown free and landed a foot away. He wanted to know what had happened here to trigger Amon's rage so severely when she had never actually shown that she harbored any. There was that glint in her eyes, sometimes, like a mild defiance, but nothing that would have ever made him suspect she was capable of this level of brutality.

Even having seen her commit the act, he still had a hard time reconciling it. The idea that the ever-punctual, hard-working, shoe-shining demoness would do this just didn't make sense to him. He normally had a good sense of intentions.

He supposed there was a reason he had pulled her off death row.

Maybe he should look more into why she ended up in the prison to begin with.

Dust swirled up around his ankles as he paced back to the redhead. Crouching, he pushed her shoulder to roll her to her back, moving one of her arms from where it had lain across her stomach. She was decorated in the same vicious purples and blacks that Yashishi bore. That eye socket would need some work, he was fairly certain it was at least fractured. He reached down, lifting her arm. As he began removing her glove Amon growled, low, quiet, and weakly attempted to pull away from him.

"Don't." She warned, eyes still closed.

Hiei cut his eyes to her, waiting for her to truly awaken. When she didn't he tried again and this time she did wake up.

She jerked her arm free, spun on her shoulders and hands, legs above her to help with her momentum. She came down in a crouch, one leg out to the side, her chest heaving, teeth bared at him. Her eyes, though, weren't quite seeing he noticed. They looked lost in a dream. She blinked, remaining hunkered down in that pose as she regarded him.

"Another dream." Amon announced to herself, her eyes wandering from Hiei to the empty cavern. "What a strange place to dream."

"Amon." Hiei called her name to gain her attention, which he earned slowly.

"More unusual to dream you were touching me." She decided aloud. "The king doesn't touch me. What are you? A nightmare?"

"Something like that." Hiei offered in response. "Are you asleep?"

"Must be. There's no other reason." She went to blink but her eyes never reopened and once more she lost consciousness abruptly.

Tendrils of red dust rose when she collided with the earth, body once again limp.

Hiei considered her for a long moment. Her reaction, the swift way she'd retracted and expertly regained her footing, it spoke of training. Practice. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly who Amon was and where she had come from.

* * *

Hiei carried Amon into the infirmary, depositing her onto one of the beds without bothering with gentleness. She was dead to the world. She didn't even groan when he dropped her. The medical staff stopped to await his orders.

"You." Hiei pointed at a doctor randomly. "See to Amon. I want a fully detailed report of her injuries, including any x-rays. I want whatever medical history you can get on her as well. The two of you," he chose two more without really looking at them, "go to the caverns and retrieve what's left of General Yashishi. I know is cause of death, but I want you to take full stock of the rest of his injuries as well."

"What happened?" The doctor tending to Amon asked as he looked over her face.

"She won." Hiei answered him. "Oh, and you might want to restrain her before taking off those gloves."

The doctor jumped back from Amon's hand, dropping her arm with a look of concern. Hiei smirked as he left the room to go find what records he could on his little personal servant.

* * *

Hiei walked in to see Amon trying to pry her arms free of the leather cuffs strapping her to the hospital bed. They allowed just enough slack so that she could sit up instead of trapping her on her back. Apparently that was too much lenience. The infirmary staff was huddled as far from her as they could get. She had another metal mask on her face, this one pulled tight around her head by leather straps. Her fury shone in her glare, and she was definitely trying to yell, but her words were incomprehensible. Had she broken her jaw?

He strode over to her and put two fingers under her chin. The sudden contact stopped her tantrum.

"Behave." Hiei commanded. "Do you understand me?"

She offered him a nod and what he assumed as a comment to the affirmative. Her eyes moved from him to the staff, whom caught the brunt of her rage. One of them squeaked.

"Get out." Hiei didn't bother looking at the pathetic lot of them when he barked the order. His eyes were glued to Amon's blue eyes as she silently seethed. The door slammed behind the last of them.

Bandaged hands moved to the back of Amon's head, the files he'd been carrying thrown onto her legs while he worked the clasps free until the mask fell from her face. Then he spied the gag tied into place, preventing her from speaking.

"What exactly did you do to them?" He asked, a passing thought, as he untied the gag. He'd never seen them use one before down here.

"I was confused when awoke." Amon answered, still stewing in her rage.

"They gagged you and put you in a muzzle because you were confused?" Hiei raised an eyebrow.

"I may have attempted to bite one of them in my confusion." She admitted, looking away from him. "I wasn't expecting to be strapped down to a bed and undressed."

They had stripped her down and placed her in a hospital gown. It must have been disorienting, he had to admit.

"At least you didn't wake up naked suspended in a healing pod." He told her. She frowned then, eying him.

Hiei took careful note of the collar still around her neck. The only personal item she still wore. Still leaning over her, he grazed his fingertips over its surface searching for a clasp or seam. Nothing.

Just like he'd suspected.

Amon watched him warily as collected his files and drug a chair to her bedside. Leaning back in the chair, he propped his feet up on her mattress. Hiei opened the first of the files and began reading from it.

"Amon. No surname. No country of origin. Indeterminate power level. Indeterminate breed. Mute. Vicious and uncontrollable. Mask has been welded closed for handlers protection after demon attacked responders who found him with his murdered master, Isaac Greyfield. Uncooperative during interrogation. Cannot be celled with other inmates, as he will attack if provoked. Recommended sentencing," Hiei looked up then to meet her eyes, "immediate execution."

"They told you I was a murderer when you first saw me." She reminded him coolly.

Hiei put that file down, picked up another. "Isaac Greyfield, citizen of Uktland. Moved to Alaric about eighteen months ago. C-class. Humanoid, classification: Slavemaker. Suave, described as a charming man with penchant for earning the favor of officials and young women. Known to sadistically torture those he enslaves. Has been connected to illegal fighting rings. Tenuous connections to the deaths of four high ranking officials. Does not fight himself, instead chooses to force his slaves to do it for him."

Amon grew stiff and furious while he described Greyfield. Hiei noticed.

"Greyfield's trademark as a slavemaker is the collar he forces his victims to wear. It is a symbol of their bondage and acts as method for ensuring their obedience through complete compulsion." Hiei looked up then. Amon had turned her face away from him, the muscle in her jaw twitching. "Greyfield's ability robs his victims of their freewill, forcing them to comply with his every whim. The collar acts a conduit and ensures that even at great distances, his rules are followed. Though weak in power, he is a demon to be wary of."

"Not anymore."

Hiei stared at Amon. She didn't look at him.

"No one will ever have to fear him again." She kept her voice even.

"Cause of death, poison. Primary suspect, Amon."

"Trust me, I had the capacity to kill him it wouldn't have taken so long and it sure as hell wouldn't have been so quick for him."

"It says here that the average lifespan of a demon in Greyfield's keep is five years. With the exception of one." Hiei closed the file. "You."

"I don't need to be reminded of the atrocious acts that man carried out. I was there for them all." Amon told him coarsely.

"You weren't just there, you were the one who executed his orders." Hiei told her coolly. "You served him for nearly a hundred and fifty years. How did you survive so long when everyone else faded so quickly?"

Amon didn't answer him.

"Amon." He narrowed his eyes. "Don't make me demand you tell me."

She still didn't speak. Hiei sighed.

"Have it your way." He told her. "Amon-"

"He couldn't kill me." Her voice became ice cold and sharp. "I survived because he literally wasn't strong enough to kill me. Even after starving me. Beating me. Trying to break me. He was never strong enough to actually finish me off and he hated me for that so he kept me around just to torture me."

Those dark blue eyes bore into Hiei's, her chest lifting and falling with ragged breaths she was doing her best to suppress.

"He forced me to do things that will haunt me until the end of my life." She went on, unblinking. "He made me kill for him. Made me bow to him. He cut my hair and he took my clothes and he put me in chains and he took away all the things that made me who I was and I will never get any of those things back. He ruined me because he could not break me."

"And Yashishi, what did he do to you?" Hiei dropped his feet and leaned toward her.

"That idiot?" She scoffed. "What the hell does he have to do with this conversation?"

Hiei stared at her, and realized something that startled him. "You don't remember what you did, do you?"

"What did I do?" Amon grew visibly worried.

"You killed Yashishi yesterday. I brought you here to be looked over due to your injuries."

"Impossible." Amon shook her head, then studied her hands. "I don't remember this. How could I kill the general? It would go against your wishes."

"I never forbade you from fighting." Hiei pointed out. "I didn't think I'd have to tell you not to crush the skulls of my generals."

Now she looked alarmed. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints as she shook, eyes fixated on her hands still. She bowed her head down further so her hair spilled over her shoulder and hid her face, her fingers curling into her palms so tightly that her nails cut through the skin. Tears ran down her face, dropping from her chin to the threadbare blanket tossed over her legs.

Through teeth that ground together she spoke, "I'm the monster they accused me of being. I'm this awful thing. All I can do is kill and hurt and fight and no matter how I try to change that's all I am. A beast. A killer. I don't deserve to be here."

"Enough." Hiei's hand gripped her chin roughly forcing her head up. He stood beside her, expression cool and unforgiving. "I don't have time to sit here and listen to you pity yourself, so stop that squalling."

Like magic the tears stopped flowing. Amon's throat moved as she swallowed thickly.

"That's better." Hiei continued to physically demand her attention. "Now, you're going to tell me exactly what happened between Yashishi and you."

"I don't remember." She told him, eyes scanning his face. "A few days ago he attempted to menace Marielle in the kitchen and I intervened. He wasn't pleased, but he was still very much so alive."

"A few days ago?" Hiei tightened his hold on her chin. "Was he the one who left those hand prints on your throat?"

"Yes." She spoke firmly.

"Did you speak to him yesterday?"

"I don't recall."

"Did he attack you again?"

"I don't remember."

Hiei grunted, annoyed. Then he used his free hand to pull up his bandanna, revealing his Jagan. "Do you have any experience with psychics, Amon?"

Her eyes grew wide. He didn't wait for her to answer before delving into her mind. Amon's thoughts had an interesting flavor to them. She was aware of everything around her, even when she seemed oblivious. Even right now, she was cognizant of the layout of the infirmary, where the tools were located, where Hiei stood in relation to herself. She had started to question Hiei's abilities, as she'd never seen him in action. How fast was he? How strong? How ruthless?

What was he going to do to her when he found her guilty?

Was she guilty?

He seemed to think so, and she thought, that was enough to be convicted. Back to a cell awaiting the reprieve of death's embrace for her.

 _Stop thinking_. Hiei's voice swam through her mind and reverberated through her entire being. He tasted her reaction, the complete obedience that forced her compliance. Vaguely, he was aware that she was trembling. He focused on his task of backtracking through Amon's muddy memory until he found the last clear moment.

The dining hall yesterday, when Greyfield had been brought up. Hiei stayed in that moment with her, but outside of her. He watched through her eyes as she watched him for his reaction to what the men were saying. She liked Alaric. She liked that the king trusted her enough to not give her orders. She liked the king. Despite his strange mannerisms, he was a strong man full of potential. She didn't want him to cast her to the side because of her past.

She was terrified.

She was also disgusted with herself. Every word the men spoke brought a new awful memory to the surface and fighting them down was no use. Then She caught the king looking at her. The detached way he regarded her, the flames in his eyes, she couldn't bare it. And then the worst thing, he told her to leave. She felt the dismissal in her chest and gut, a mortal wound that wouldn't have the mercy to kill her.

That's where her mind fell apart. She grew detached from herself, crawled up in the back of her consciousness and waited for the agonizing emotions to pass. But her eyes still saw. She walked to the bathing room at the bottom of the castle and stared at her reflection assessing herself to be worthless. Her fist bit through the mirror and she didn't even react to the sharp remnants of the glass that burrowed into her knuckles through her gloves. All she felt was cold.

Lost in the haze of her mind, she wandered. The castle was a dream she was trapped in. Yashishi appeared, taunting her and at first she didn't bite. She went to search for whatever she was being drawn toward. She couldn't remember what it was. Then he grabbed her and he threatened her again, and this time she relented because the idea of fighting him brought warmth back into her body.

Through the fight, through replacing Yashishi's face with Greyfield's, through Marielle trying to stop her, Amon remained cold and aloof. It wasn't until the king's hand wrapped around her wrist, his arm around her throat dragging her to his chest that she came back to life. The burst of heat swept her dream away, and it hurt so much to let it go. It melted her bones. It forced her to confront what she'd done.

And then she cried. But once she fell asleep, it all blended together. It was all the same horrific dream. Until she awoke to find herself strapped to the bed, a doctor examining her face. Out of confusion and fear she snapped at his hand, her teething biting into his arm with intent to maim. It took four of them to pin her down long enough to get the gag on her to silence her screaming threats. Then the mask as an added measure.

Hiei pulled out of her mind, letting the Jagan fold closed. Her eyes were glued to the implanted organ, even after he allowed the covering to fall back into place.

"Lavender suits you." She told him absently.

Hiei blinked at her, not sure how to respond to that stray thought.

"What am I going to do with you now?" He asked her, raising a single eyebrow skyward. "If I let you go with no punishment the other cabinet members won't shut up about it. They're already asking for you to be executed. But, if Yashishi was stupid enough to die at your hands, I can't see the sense in punishing you for it. He challenged you, he should have taken you more seriously. What to do."

"You have to make an example of me, sire. Not only is it what's expected of you, but it'll prevent this ordeal from happening again." Amon told him. "Truly, it's the best course of action."

"You're so ready to be at my mercy or lack there of?" Hiei's lips twisted up at the corners. "That's brave of you."

"This isn't bravery or bravado, sire. I believe you are a good king. I believe you should command respect." She explained. "If you don't make an example of me, you'll lose some of your holding with your cabinet and your people. I cannot allow that to come to pass."

"And what should I do to make an example of you? Beat you to death the way you beat the general? A public execution? A flogging? What brutality will secure my honor amongst the citizens, Amon? How much of your blood should I use to wash my hands to garner the favor of fools?"

"Your anger confuses me." Amon sank into her shoulders despite him continuing to hold onto her chin. "I don't know what your expectations of me are in this situation. You asked me a question and I answered. What I've done is unimaginable and unforgivable. I should be punished."

"Is that you talking or that Greyfield?" Hiei demanded of her. It struck a chord, as she tensed up. "Do you really think you were in the wrong, Amon? Or are you telling me what you think I expect you to say?"

"I…" she trailed off, brow pinched as he finally released her.

"That's what I thought." He undid her restraints, allowing her to pull her arms to her lap. "Your only fault in this is not coming to me."

"Ah, that is the one part of this I do not regret." Amon shook her head. "Getting you involved when I'm the one who moved against the general first would have only made matters worse for me. I didn't mean to kill him, but I had meant to handle this myself."

"Why do you still wear that collar?" Hiei couldn't help but ask. Her fingers raised to brush over the leather. "Greyfield has been dead for sometime now. You've been with me for the better part of a year."

"I've been yours the better part of a year." She corrected him, hand falling away from the collar. "When you brought me here you took over as my master. You claimed ownership of me as soon as you told me I served you."

"Why didn't you take it off before?" Hiei seemed more intrigued than appalled. "What did it benefit you to keep wearing it?"

"I don't know how." She admitted with a scowl. "I tried to take it off, but nothing worked. Initially, I had hoped that by my master's death, I'd be freed, but that wasn't the case. I suppose my bondage is eternal."

"I'll look into it." Hiei told her, and he meant it. "Until then, it seems you're stuck with me."

"A fate that is far too good for me." She tried to smile but it was wan. "What a mess I've made for you, sire."

"I hated Yashishi anyway, I'm glad someone finally got rid of him before I had to do it myself. Now we can get a new general to annoy the piss out of me." Hiei shoved his hands into his pockets. "That fool had it in for me for years. He always hated that I was Mukuro's favorite and he was not."

"I'd leave that out of your response to his death." Amon suggested.

"I don't see the point in lying about it. I've made my opinions known. It would be more alarming if I started to mourn the idiot's death." He allowed himself to focus on Amon's health for a moment, grabbing her chart and reading through it. "You're on bed rest for the next week. You have an orbital fracture, four broken ribs, a partially dislocated hip and knee that had to be popped back into place. Not to mention the shards of bone and glass they had to pull out of your knuckles."

"A week seems excessive." She told him. "I'll need three days at most."

"You'll take a week because I told you to." Hiei put the chart back at the foot of her bed. "And you'll keep your teeth away from the doctors. I need time to clean this mess up for you."

Unable to argue, she nodded. "May I at least spend my time in my own room?"

"I don't care as long as you aren't working or causing trouble." Hiei warned her. She nodded again. "You can get dressed."

Amon rubbed her wrists, new bruises blooming on her skin from how hard she had struggled against the leather cuffs. Sliding carefully from the bed she became hyper aware of the king's presence in the room and what his newfound knowledge could mean for her. Walking over to where her clothes had been lain out, she tried to pretend he wasn't there. It was a difficult task when she could feel him staring at her, the sensation almost like a feather brushing over her back.

Once her pants were on, she shrugged off the gown altogether. If he wanted to stare at her back, there was nothing she could do to stop him. It wasn't a beautiful view. She carried the marks of Greyfield's ire on her skin. In way, her scars mapped out her absurd will to survive. Spite was powerful. Even when she had wanted to die, she refused to succumb to Greyfield's wish to be the one to break her.

Her shirt was torn, her vest missing buttons, her jacket missing. She made do with what she had. At this rate, her wardrobe would be diminished to nothing in no time. How annoying. Clothes didn't grow on trees and procuring them hadn't been easy to start with. It was difficult to buy things when you had no money to your name.

"Do you happen to have a sewing kit handy? It'd be nice to repair my shirt, I only have so many." Amon turned to face her king with a deflated sense of everything.

"Just buy a new one." Hiei told her blandly.

She stared at him dully and then sighed. "I would, but unfortunately without money I cannot."

"You blew through your pay already? On what? You wear the same three outfits in rotation and I've never seen you with anything new." Hiei tipped his head to the side.

"My what now?" Amon straightened in her confusion. "Did you say my pay? You've been paying me this whole time?"

Hiei pressed his hand to his face, closing his eyes. "You're utterly hopeless for someone so skilled. Come with me."

She followed him down the halls then toward the front door. Amon came to an abrupt stop as the king pushed the door open. He stood one the other side of the threshold with an annoyed scowl.

"What now, Amon?" He demanded.

"We're leaving the castle grounds?" She frowned. "More, _I_ _'m_ leaving the castle itself?"

"Why are you so surprised?" The king asked her, hands on his hips. "You've left the castle before. You do the shopping."

"No sir, I do not. I make the lists." Amon shook her head. She looked passed him to the bright outdoors. "I've only gone so far as to retrieve you from the memorial."

"Are you telling me that you've stayed inside the walls of the castle this entire time?" Crimson eyes bore into her. "You haven't left at all?"

"You never gave me permission to leave." She explained.

"I never forbid it either."

That shook her to her core. She'd been operating on the idea that without direct permission all other things were forbidden. Did this mean that she had freedom to do whatever she wanted unless the king expressly told her not to?

This day was proving too much for her. She felt tired suddenly, and light headed. Despite her wooziness, she moved to follow the king. Once she was over the threshold, inhaling deeply, she once again became hyper aware of the king's attention on her. This time she stared back.

"M'lord?" Amon questioned. "Is something wrong?"

"You look different in daylight." He commented, scouring her face. She swallowed. "You haven't been sleeping. Or eating enough."

That made her look away. "Well, I have a week to catch up on both."

She hadn't for the disrespectful edge to enter her tone, but it slipped passed her internal filter. The king snorted and began walking again with his hands in his pockets and his eyes closed.

"Don't make me wait for you, Amon, I'm not a patient man." He called once he'd gotten halfway to the main gate without her following. She took long strides to catch up to him without the hassle of running. He never bothered looking back to be sure she was there.

Amon marveled at the depth of the city as they walked through it. Demons of all kinds bustled around them. It didn't escape her notice that most of them gave her king a wide berth. Of course he could walk with his eyes closed, there was no risk of bumping into anyone. He must've had the entire map of the city streets memorized as well, as he seemed to flow naturally and easily toward his destination. She was impressed with that. The relaxation he carried with him as he walked was mesmerizing. This was his home.

They entered a building made of thick walls and full of waiting demons. The king led her to the front and gestured to the tall demon waiting behind the length shared desk sectored off between the other tellers. Amon waited for the man to speak, but he just stared at her. Another huff left the king and he glanced up to the other demon.

"Amon. She had an account supplied by me." He announced. "She's here to make a withdrawal."

"Am I?" Amon frowned.

"If you want to buy new clothes you are."

"Yes, I'm here to make a withdrawal." She nodded then. The demon grumbled and asked her how much she wanted to take. Blue eyes darted to the king, who had gone to lounging against the wall beside them, looking eternally bored with the whole affair. "I…How much do I have?"

The number offered to her drained the blood from her face.

Appalled she turned to the king. "That is far too much!"

"It's not my fault you didn't check your account for ten months, Amon. Make your withdrawal so we can move on with our lives. I don't want to be here all day."

"How much is a shirt?" She asked the teller, who openly rolled his large black eyes.

"Just give her two hundred units." Hiei glared at her. As the teller went to retrieve her funds, Hiei griped. "How do you not know how much clothing costs? How can you possibly be so good at your job and so useless at living?"

Her blood returned from her feet to her face in record time, causing her to flush in embarrassment. "Forgive me for not having to buy clothes for last century and a half, sire. The one thing Greyfield did provide was my wardrobe."

The king's eyes narrowed on her, a clear warning. "Perhaps you'd prefer me to start behaving more like him, then?"

Amon shook her head, looking down. "No, sire."

"You have to learn to take care of yourself, Amon. I don't have the skills necessary to coddle you." Hiei told her coolly as the teller passed an envelope over the counter. "Greyfield might've been interested controlling every aspect of your life but I don't have the time, patience or inclination."

They made their way from the building and Amon stopped just outside. This time the king did stop. She looked down at the envelope in her hands.

"You're right, m'lord. I'm sorry."

Hiei scowled, stalking back to her. "What?"

"You're having to cut time out of your schedule to hold my hand through basic aspects of living. It must be so frustrating to have to deal with. I'm sorry. I will find my way from here." She kept her eyes down, tone a little lost. "I'm like a child. I hate this."

"You're so frustrating." Hiei remarked and watched as she flinched from his words. "One minute I think you're finally growing a backbone and the next you're back to groveling. Pick a personality, Amon, but do it later. We should get moving."

"Sire, I must protest. You have better things to do than-" Amon made a small sound of surprise as Hiei grabbed her by the wrist and began to drag her behind him. She followed him after a quick stumble. Another blush spread to her cheeks.

"I know you just got your voice back, but sometimes you talk too much." Hiei complained ahead of her. "I said we needed to get moving."

Amon let him lead her without further protest. He made sure to pick a pace that she could easily follow. Hiei also worked to be mindful of how hard his grip on her was. He didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted her to stop arguing with him. They arrived at the seam stress and he shoved her inside, telling her to pick her clothes before they went to the market proper. Again, Amon floundered, but she explained the situation to the wizened demoness, who promptly began measuring her out for new attire.

"These clothes are awful, they don't fit you at all." The woman clucked.

"They are hand me downs. I did my best to alter them." Amon told her.

"They're men's clothes."

"They're all I've known for quite some time. When I was child, I wore trousers and blouses or tunics. However, such things are inappropriate for work in the castle. I'd prefer to look presentable if I'm to be in the service of a king."

Hiei listened raptly. Where had Amon come from? This was the first time he'd heard anything concrete about her former life. The seamstress pushed Amon into a dressing room and tossed clothes in at her until Amon found something she wanted for the day. They worked out the order to be picked up later for the rest of her new clothes and then Hiei led her toward the vendors and stalls lining the streets. While they made their way, Amon whispered about the price of the clothes. She had too much money left over, she told him. She had too much to start with, too.

He wasn't sure why she was complaining. Every time he looked at her, she ducked her head down and grew quiet about it though. He was a little glad for her pliable shame, because it allowed him to study her differently. The seamstress had stuffed Amon into a pair of nearly-fitted trousers and a blouse that revealed her forearms. Hiei had never really seen Amon in anything less than a suit. Even when her jacket was absent her sleeves were always long, with cuffs always buttons. He thought he knew why.

Like her back, Amon's arms were a road map of scars. Some thin and small, some jagged and long, other's smooth and thick with puckered edges reminiscent of being burned with something hot, not fire itself. He could guess the implements of torture she'd endured to earn the different marks.

"The scars." Hiei spoke, forcing his attention away from her skin. Out of his peripheral he saw Amon turn her head toward him. "Are they all from Greyfield?"

"Not all." She spoke softly. "Some are from his friends. Others are from mine."

"You have friends?" He hadn't meant it as a jab. Amon didn't seem to take it that way either.

"I used to. Before."

Hiei nodded, and decided he was done being curious aloud for the time being. Instead he made his way over to the only stall he actually cared about visiting on any given day. Weaponry. The vendor knew him by face, and offered a hearty greeting that wasn't returned. Hiei examined a few new pieces after handing over his own sword for sharpening. Normally he did it himself, but he was making an exception.

"Where is this one from?" He held up a knife with a particularly strong sheen to the metal.

"Seems to made with the metal mined under the Oroho mountains, and then crafted by the tenkus of that region. You can tell by the perfect balance and the attention to detail. Plus, they tend to craft weapons with animal bone handles. Though that piece seems to involve a rock of some kind."

Hiei glanced to the side, as did the demon selling the wares. They both looked to Amon, who had her eyes on the knife in Hiei's hand.

"She's right." The demon told Hiei.

"Normally, about most things." Amon told him, turning her own attention to more subtle pieces. "The tenkus have always had my admiration for their blacksmithing skills. I've encountered a few of their pieces over the years. The craftmanship is second to none."

"You're a knowledgeable lady." The vendor laughed. "Where did you learn so much about blades?"

Amon's answer was only a soft smile then bow of her head. "Listening, mostly."

Hiei did not believe that for one goddamn second and it showed on his face.

Amon stuck close to him, relatively. She made every attempt to stay a few steps behind, but as the crowd grew more dense, she crept closer. She knew that the king was likely tired of her dogging his heels, but she was quickly growing overwhelmed. She had not been near this many people in such a long time that her chest felt tight with apprehension. Too many faces. Too many voices. Too many scenarios. Any one of these people could intend harm, or suddenly become violent. What if there was an attack on the market? The crowd would surely surge, turning itself into a deadly wave of bodies. She had memorized the lay of the castle. She knew every ingress and exit and path to get them. This was different.

The king was in his element. He had no outward appearance of being stressed or worrying about the what-ifs. If he felt the same looming sense of danger she felt, he didn't show it. What it must be like, to be so sure of one's self and surrounding environment to not fear. How long had it been since she'd felt that way?

A break in the crowd captured her attention and she didn't think twice about darting through it. The area she stepped into was calmer, more sparsely populated by the menagerie of citizens Alaric hosted. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, only then realizing she had been curling in on herself so she'd be as small as possible. Shaking off the tension and the anxiety, Amon took a few careful steps towards the produce for sale. Such a variety! Everything was so colorful and ripe. Some she knew to avoid, having had them and their unfortunate digestive issues, before. She asked the demons selling the fresh foods about their selections, doing her best to sponge all the knowledge up.

It startled when she turned and the king was beside her. She hadn't heard him approach and had honestly expected him to have wandered off on his own. Instead he was at her elbow not even looking her way.

"You ran off." He told her. "Don't do that."

It was the nonchalance of the words that made her smile. He cut a look her way that she was sure was meant to be intimidating, but without the dark heat of his energy billowing against her the expression fell short of its goal. But still, for posterity, she nodded to his command.

Amon broke the silence that had fallen between them while they studied the bounty of fresh edibles.

"Sire, forgive me if this is out of line, but may I ask you a personal question?" She prodded gently as she examined a piece of fruit with a thick, rough skin. She ultimately decided not to risk buying it.

"Do what you want." Hiei gruffed.

"I've been curious for a while now, but what precisely was your relationship to the former king? You seem to carry a heartfelt respect and sense of admiration for her that seems to be deeply…personal." Amon once again picked up a piece of unique produce to study.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about." Hiei warned her harshly. This earned him a side glance from eyes that shone a little too cleverly for his taste at the moment. The fading sunlight seemed to add a glow to her hair, which was loose around her face and shoulders. He had never really seen it down until he'd checked on her in the infirmary earlier that day. It suited her.

He suspected she would go back to pulling it back though.

"I see. I apologize for the assumption." Amon pointed to a selection of fruits and asked for them to be bagged.

Hiei watched her closely. Her voice shifted as if he had vindicated her suspicion by denying it. Scanning over her, her posture had adjusted as well with her feet now slightly further apart, her shoulders down. Most interesting to him, she raised her chin when she toward him. Overall she had the air of a woman who had gotten exactly what she wanted and felt confident about it.

"Something else you want to say, Amon?" He challenged, matching her new stance.

"What ever would prompt you to ask that, m'lord?"

They stared at each other for a second. He narrowed his eyes. Amon's arms crossed over her chest until the fruit peddler handed her the cloth sack heavily burdened with her choices.

"Planning to consume such a haul alone?" Hiei questioned, trying to find a weak spot in her the way she'd just needled one out of him.

Amon bit into a particularly juicy hand fruit without answering. Her head turned, eyes spying something of interest to their left that caused her to focus so hard she had forgotten to keep chewing. Red eyebrows pulled down.

Hiei followed the line of her attention, curious to what could so dramatically change her demeanor. "Amon?"

"Apologies, sire. It's nothing. I thought I saw someone I knew." She explained pensively, looking at him without seeing him at all. "A mistake on my part. It seems I'm making many of them today."

"You should work on that. I don't want you developing bad habits." Hiei advised, hoping for another sharp-eyed glance.

Distracted, she responded, "Yes, I suppose you're right."

* * *

Amon sat in her converted-prison-cell-room, looking up at the grungy ceiling. Her thoughts ran continuously through the day's events. What a whirlwind. The king's psychic probing had allowed her to connect with those memories she'd have otherwise lost. Now she was stuck with them. She wasn't sure if she should be thankful to him or not for that.

Her brow furrowed. She tossed a fruit from hand to hand, an activity so mindless she had forgotten she was doing it. Having something to do with her hands that didn't require concentration allowed her to think more clearly. Right now she was so sure that was a good thing either.

Marielle.

Amon frowned as she remembered the woman's face, not twisted in horrified disgust but rather bathed in fading red sunlight on the darkening edge of the marketplace. Head bowed as she spoke earnestly with a man who wore a hood to cover his face. They'd exchanged a paper for a parcel and then parted ways. The event itself should have been innocuous. Two demons meeting near a marketto conduct a trade was far from a crime. So why did it feel like she'd just witnessed something seedy?

It was the secretive nature of the exchange that bothered Amon. Marielle had glanced around nervously, hiding the parcel in the pocket of her dress. Amon had made sure to turn back to the king before either demon caught her staring.

Amon trusted her instincts when given the freedom to do so. That made this all the harder to comprehend. She didn't want to be right about this feeling. How did she cope with this?

A soft rapping at her door brought the fruit to stillness in one of her palms, captured and held tightly. She glued her eyes to the rough hewn wooden surface. Benji was the only one who had visited her down here. She wasn't convinced anyone else even knew where to find her. Certainly, she had never told anyone where she slept. This was the one place in the castle that was truly hers. Private. Alone. As close to a home as she'd likely ever get again.

A second gentle knock, followed by a low call. "Amon?"

Marielle pushed the door open a crack to peek inside the space. When she caught sight of the redhead she relaxed and sighed as though a great weight had been lifted from her at long last. Not the reaction Amon had expected. The suspicion grew.

"I'm so glad you're alright! When Hiei told everyone to leave, I was so worried."

Why did everyone in this castle make a point to insult the king by using his given name all the time? It wasn't as though none of them had decorum. It seemed to be a conscious choice to be insubordinate.

"I'm fine." Amon assured her, that ringing sense of vexation growing more intense. "I didn't mean to cause you to worry."

"No one could find you." Marielle walked over to her, coming to sit on the worn, used futon that Amon had pilfered from a long forgotten closet. It was more comfortable than the stone floor, for sure. Still, Marielle seemed unable to find a position that suited her on it. "You weren't in the infirmary, you weren't doing any of your work."

"I'm on bed rest. Orders of the king." Amon swallowed the climbing uncertainty. She settled it down deep inside her guts and in the back of her brain where it could watch without interfering.

"Bed rest? You must be so bored. Have you gotten the chance to stretch your legs?"

"I went to the market. It was a little much for me. I likely won't be going again anytime soon." Amon sighed. Marielle cozied up to her, making herself at home against Amon's side, her dark head on the redhead's shoulder, thin arms around the other's waist.

"Sounds like an adventure. Did you find anything interesting?" Marielle smiled softly as she asked it and all once it all clicked into place for Amon.

She was being tested.

Marielle saw her and wanted to know what she'd seen. Whatever was happening was certainly not good and her instincts were right. She hated that. But she knew a spy when it crawled into her bed. Without missing a beat she smiled back, shaking her head in small movements. Then she stopped and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"I did see a lovely knife, actually. And there were so many different sorts of demons about. All the new foods too. I suppose it was all so interesting that none of it jumps to mind at first." Amon leaned into Marielle, pressing her cheek to the other woman's head.

"I'm glad you're okay." Marielle tipped her head up to plant a chaste kiss on Amon's mouth.

Amon allowed it, kissing her back softly. This was a battle of softness. She had never been good with those sorts of challenges. She'd been raised with hard edges. Her sister had inherited all the softness left in the bloodline. But for now, she could pretend. She was good at pretending. She was even better at surviving.

She'd keep her eyes open and her head down around Marielle for now, until she discovered what was going on behind the curtain. Part of her already had a list of potential schemes that might be in the works. One of the few skills Greyfield had beaten into her that would come in: subterfuge. Amon just hoped this wouldn't end like all her other bouts of intelligence gathering.

With a dead body and blood on her hands.


	10. Dirl

**A/N: Took a little longer than I wanted, but that** **'s alright. I still got it done. Enjoy!**

* * *

Amon lounged on her beaten mattress, a book propped open and resting against her lifted knee as she ate a fruit. This idleness felt as familiar as it did unnatural. When she was a child she'd had many moments like this. She hadn't been a child for a very long time. As with any memory of her youth, this one ate at her focus until she was left staring at the pages of the book with no memory of reading the words. Giving up, she dogeared the corner to mark her spot and set the book to the side. Her head fell back on her shoulders, then she just let her entire body collapse down until she was sprawled over her futon.

A week.

How was she supposed to survive a week of this boredom? At least escaping from the infirmary would have given her something to do. She'd hoped that being in her own room would be more relaxing, more tolerable.

She'd been wrong.

A week. It still seemed excessive but she understood what the king was aiming to do. Keep her out of sight for a few days, not just for her recovery, but so he could smooth over her awful transgression. While he was the absolute power in Alaric, he had a cabinet of demons who worked as his advisers. If they were all calling for her execution and he resisted, he'd have to come up with a compelling reason why or risk losing the respect of the other powerful men in the territory. Amon sighed again, stuck in the same spiral of thoughts that had been hounding her for four days already.

If the king had just killed her this wouldn't be necessary.

Instead, he took her shopping.

She had no idea what he was thinking. That was unnerving, in its own way, but it was also unfortunate. The fact he'd entertain so flippantly disregarding the voices of reason surrounding him showed her that he felt himself the most competent man in the entirety of the land. While not unheard of for a king, it was at it's best a foolhardy way of behaving. He was still very new to his position. He should rely on the systems in place to support him, not just rebel against them for the sake of posturing.

Groaning, Amon tossed her arm over her face, burrowing her nose in the crook of her elbow so that the dim lights of her lanterns were turned to darkness. Her king was such a stubborn, self-assured fool sometimes.

Not that she couldn't relate.

"If I'm going to drown in thoughts I might as well do it in a bath." Amon spoke to no one but herself. Rolling on her mattress always made her feel a bit grungy. Some sort of grit had worked into the threads and transfered to her skin at every available opportunity. Bathing was her new favorite hobby for that reason.

Prying herself off the futon and onto her feet, she padded over to grab her toiletries and a clean set of clothes. The best part of living down here was how no one invaded her privacy. There were rumors this part of the castle was cursed and Amon used those old superstitions to her advantage. Anything to get a hassle free bath.

* * *

Hiei wandered the underbelly of the castle driven by a nagging sense of curiosity.

What had Amon been doing down here?

That question had been pestering him for a few days now. Why had she been down here in a lonesome bathroom, breaking mirrors? He knew no one bothered with this area. The staff muttered to themselves that it was cursed or haunted or some other equally idiotic thing. There were no ghosts down here but their own imaginations.

He strode into the bathroom to reexamine it. The glass had been swept up, the mirror replaced. That surprised him. Why would anyone bother? It occurred to him to look around. The entire room had been cleaned. Unlike many of the other rooms in this sector, this one looked cared for. Unusual. Was this Amon's doing? Why?

Sound grabbed his attention, a soft splash from behind the partition leading into the bath proper. Hiei made sure to keep his steps light as he approached, eyes sharp.

An intruder? A vagrant who had made a home where no one would look? Amon in another one of those states, lost in her own mind?

He grabbed the curtain and yanked it open with a harsh look marring his features, ready to fight.

Amon spun toward him with similar spirit, eyes narrowed and dark, lips pulling back over her teeth in a snarl, feet sliding apart as she prepared herself to spring. She grew stiff upon seeing him.

Hiei stared, blinked, then spun and closed the curtain, facing it. It took him a few seconds to realize he'd closed it with himself on the wrong side.

"Sire?" Amon's voice called, confused and wary. Worst of all, it was far too close.

Hiei didn't want her to see his embarrassment as he fought the curtain for a second, floundering in his flustered state. Finally he pushed back to the other side, leaving her behind him to finish drying off. He hadn't meant to barge in on her bathing, much less her just standing there dripping water onto the floor as she reached for her clothes, wet hair clinging to her back and shoulders and chest and cheeks. The red strands had gotten longer than he'd realized.

"Sir." Amon's voice brought his brisk walk to a stop. He turned slowly to face her where she stood just at his side.

She was dressed, but her hair was still soaked. In fact her clothes clung to her still damp skin. He looked away.

"You're fast." He commented.

"Did you need something?" She pressed, eyebrows raised imploringly. "It's unusual to see you down here."

"I was trying to answer a question." It was the truth at least.

"About the bath?" Amon's brows pulled down, her head tipping to the side. "Perhaps I could help?"

"You're on bed rest." Hiei started walking again, turning his tone as lofty as he could, nose in the air to dispel the fact he was still embarrassed. More so now for floundering the way he had, like some teenager who still had shame, instead of keeping his composure.

"Surely this isn't that intensive of a request. It's a bath." Amon suggested. Her tone sounded a little pleading to him. "I'd like to help."

She was right, she could help. He would just ask her outright instead of beating around the topic.

"What are you doing down here?" Hiei demanded then, eying her.

Amon's eyes darted to the side, pinched in quick thought. Then she pressed her lips together before regarding him.

"I live down here." She answered, back to being wary.

Hiei stared at her before moving to look around the dark, grungy hall. She lived down here? In an old, unused prison?

"Why?"

"It's the first place I slept." Amon offered, looking around too. "The first night I was here, you didn't tell me where to go. I've slept on stones in chains for so long this felt like home. It's quiet too, which I enjoy. I get to be alone."

"Show me."

Amon's eyes grew wide at the uttered command, her eyes darting to the king as she swallowed her compulsion. She wanted to dissuade him from this. Hiei saw it in her eyes.

"Show me where you sleep." He narrowed his gaze in warning, leaving no room for argument. With a nod, Amon turned on bare heel and led him back down the hall. Not that he'd make a habit of abusing this newfound power to get her to do whatever he wanted, it was awfully convenient.

Amon pushed open a door and stood to the side so he could pass through. What greeted him as she shifted uneasily to his side was a barren room of stone and dim lights. A futon on the floor that smelled vaguely of old air and mildew, even from feet away. He had no idea how she stomached sleeping on it. Her clothes hung on a rack formed of old metal tubes. There was an old mirror propped upright. A small stack of books whose covers had worn so roughly that he couldn't read their titles. Lanterns burning on their last bits of oil.

Did the rest of the castle even use oil lanterns? He honestly couldn't recall. Where did she pull this things from? Was there a portal that led to relics he didn't know about it?

He paced through the space, attending to the smallest details. Amon remained by the door watching him as he toed her futon mattress with mild disgust. Her expression was noticeably blank.

"I've slept in worse." Hiei told her, taking another glance around.

Amon snorted in response. "Surely you jest. Why would a king of your caliber ever lower himself to such standards?"

"I used to be a bandit. I was notorious." Hiei eyed her. "You never heard of me?"

There was a moment of obvious discomfort that crossed her features where she considered lying to him. Then, she rethought it and shook her head. "No, sire, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure. I'd enjoy hearing stories of your youth."

"They aren't bedtime stories, Amon. There is a reason the citizens and staff think I'm a monster. I've earned the title." Hiei told her, picking up the book she'd dogeared. He read the first few sentences on the page she'd marked.

"All the same, I'd like to hear them." She pressed lightly, her voice gentle. "If you ever feel like sharing them, that is. It's rare for me to learn about others' pasts."

"Maybe because you're so secretive about your own." Hiei prodded mildly.

"Who would want to hear the origins of a slave?" Amon brushed off his interest, walking into her room to pull her book from his hands with great care. "I know this room doesn't look like much, but it is mine. It's the first thing you ever allowed me to choose. I cherish it for that reason, even if it does remind you of being a bandit."

Hiei watched her as she walked around him to oh-so-gently place her book on the stack. She didn't own much, that was true, but what she did have to her name was obviously well cared for.

"Where did you get this mattress from?"

"A closet. It seemed unused so I did my best to wash it."

"It smells."

She frowned at him dully. "As I said, sire, I did my best."

Hiei rolled his eyes. "You like this room, fine, but that doesn't mean you have to live like a dog. There are plenty of staff rooms you can pilfer bedding from. Get a real futon so you're not sleeping on whatever age old parasites that one is riddled with. And while you're at it, get more lights."

"I don't mean this to sound rude, sire, but why do you care about the state of my mattress?" She asked him, guarded as she looked him over. "Shouldn't you be scolding me for taking supplies without asking? For choosing a room that's not to your liking? For choosing anything at all?"

"That's Greyfield talking again." Hiei told her firmly. "I told you that I don't have the time to pick all your choices for you, Amon. If you stand by your decisions, then fine, but how does it make me look if you're sleeping on mattresses even prisons thought were too disgusting to keep around? What if someone saw you down here in this state? Would you really want them to think I made you live like this? Do you want me to be seen as some sort of torturous bastard?"

That clammed her up.

Hiei didn't believe half of what he was saying. No one was going to come to the castle and judge him on how poorly his staff lived. And definitely no one would wander down here and stumble upon Amon's little abode. But Amon believed they might. She wanted his reputation to be solid and good. She thought him a well-liked king and that was something about him she sought to protect. Maybe taking advantage of that to his own gain was wrong, but he'd never cared much right and wrong before.

He didn't see the harm in bending her loyalty a little if it meant getting her a real bed to sleep on.

"Surely any of your guests would wonder why you treat me so lavishly as is." Amon argued quietly, obviously doubting herself. "To allow me to sleep in a bed untethered, they would find it odd yes? I can't take advantage of your good will to my own ends sire. You've already done so much for me."

"You think this rotten mattress is lavish?"

"I've spent most of my life sleeping in dark rooms on stone floors or chained to thin mattresses, sire. I haven't had a true bed since I was a child. The fact I have a room of my own, that I was allowed to pick, is insanely generous to me."

Hiei stared at her, not sure exactly why this information made him so angry. It had been obvious for a while now that Amon's life hadn't been easy. Her skin was enough to tell him that, decorated as it was with scar tissue. But for some reason each new detail she offered of her time under Greyfield's thumb ate at another piece of him exposing his temper.

"I said pick a mattress Amon. Stop making me repeat myself when I give you orders." Hiei snapped.

She blinked and bowed her head quickly, apologizing. He forced himself to pull back from his raw frustration.

"Take a bed from an empty staff room. They aren't much but they're better than this." He gestured to her futon. "I don't want you sleeping on the floor."

"Thank you for your concern, sire, I'll strive to deserve it." Amon told him quietly but resolutely. "Though I truly don't mind the floor. I've grown used to it."

"If you can get used to that, you can get used to a bed." He grumbled, arms crossed over his chest.

The hypocrisy in his statement didn't escape him, but Amon didn't catch it. It had taken him years to get comfortable on soft mattresses. He still slept on the windowsill sometimes, actually. Sitting up propped against something just felt more secure in his more precarious moments. Every now and then he would even go to the roof and sleep in the open.

It occurred to him that he hadn't felt the need to do that since Amon had started visiting him at night. Maybe that's why he had felt the urge this week. She hadn't been around to ease him through his thoughts. Did he rely on her so much?

Apparently.

"You're a peculiar man, sir. I like that about you. You keep me on my toes." Amon tilted her head, regarding him. "No offense meant of course."

"Hiei."

Amon lifted her brows, staring at him.

"You can call me Hiei. It's what everyone else does." He informed her. "All this 'sire' 'sir' and 'king' nonsense makes no sense."

"You are a king." She reminded him. "Just because you don't get respect doesn't mean I shouldn't offer it. Referring to you by your given name is too intimate. Or worse, disrespectful. Even if no one else deems you worthy of your title, I do."

Hiei sighed. Honestly, how was it possible to be so delicately stubborn? Amon's backtalk was all so diplomatic and respectful. How boring.

"What do you think it would take to get you to show your temper?" Hiei wondered aloud. "You have one. Yashishi proved that."

Her cheeks grew red. "I would never deign to upset you with such vulgar actions. The general's death will forever be a shame I carry, especially knowing how much you had to sacrifice to keep me from suffering the consequences of my own actions. Truly you are kind to a fault, sir."

"Tch." Hiei rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll find your limits on my own. Sooner or later I'll strike the right nerve, Amon. And then I'll see what lies underneath that calm, patient mask of yours."

"I fear this is a quest without an end, sire." Amon warned him gently. "My duty is to you and you alone. Losing my temper would not fulfill that end."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I try my best, sire."

Hiei smirked at her then, a glinting warning. "I'll find the line, Amon, and then I'll shove you so far across it you'll have no choice but to come at me wildly."

Amon stared at him, studying him with careful interest. It was obvious she was intrigued by this quest of his. "Responding wildly seems like a poor response to confrontation sir. I would have no part in it."

Hiei started to the door, ideas buzzing in his skull about how to provoke her. He made it over the threshold before hearing the rest of her remark.

"I would respond with calm precision, personally."

Hiei paused and glanced at her, to make sure he'd heard correctly, but she was already fussing over the book placed atop the stack. He could only see the curve of her back as she bent over. Still he grinned, his hands diving into his pockets while he strolled back through the hall.

* * *

Amon stood in an empty, unused staff room staring at the small bed that had been pushed against the wall. This is what the king wanted her to take down to her own room? This task was irksome. First of all, she'd have to make several trips. And she'd need to disassemble the bed frame. Rolling up her sleeves as she readied herself to get to work, Amon heard the door close behind her. She did a quarter turn to assess her company.

"Ah, I see." She spoke coolly assessing the three demons who glared back at her. "I assume this about General Yashishi."

"You assume correctly." The demon in the middle told her with a growl, his black eyes narrowed in his gray face. "I don't know what manipulation you've put Hiei under to get him to protect you, but I can promise your tricks won't work on us."

Amon looked over the three faces, all full of menace as they regarded her. All three bodies tensed to spring, fists clenched. She didn't recognize them so they weren't anyone the king met with regularly. Subordinates to the general? Perhaps. Loyal to him, at the very least. They were strong. And they outnumbered her. Her eyes moved from them to the room, glancing around. No other viable exit but the door they were blocking. Nothing she could use as a weapon in the immediate.

If she fought them it would only bring more trouble. Demons like this, they didn't know how to back down. But if she didn't fight them they might actually kill her. She was outnumbered, outmatched and trapped. As she was now, even if she did fight she might not win. She'd have to try to out think them.

She put her hands up to reveal her palms. "I'm not interested in fighting you. I'm sorry for what happened between Yashishi and myself. I wasn't in my right mind when we fought, if I had been I can promise things would have ended differently."

"What a bullshit excuse." The man to the left spit.

"It's not an excuse, it's an explanation." She told him. "How can we resolve this?"

"You can accept what you have coming to you. You killed one of our own. Don't think we'll just let that pass." The demon in the center snarled. "Don't try to talk your way out of this, you piece of trash. You should've been left to rot in that damned cell."

"No. She should have been executed like she was meant to be." The demon on the right hissed. "Let's fix that."

Amon pressed her lips into a line, glancing between them. Their energies flared and she inhaled sharply.

She was not going to win this.

Not because they were going to defeat her but because she wasn't going to exacerbate this issue by resisting. Nothing these men could do to her would be worse than what she'd already endured. They'd beat and they'd feel redeemed and satisfied. So, she relaxed and waited.

* * *

Amon finished setting up her bed in her room and immediately fell onto it. It didn't immediately fall apart under her weight so she figured she'd done an alright job for only having one good eye. The other was swollen shut, it stung. The same eye that had been swollen after her fight with Yashishi. At this rate that fracture would never heal. Her face was decorated with deep colored bruises, the same purplish blacks that covered her arms and back and stomach. Her jaw hurt from being hit repeatedly, but it wasn't broken. Her teeth were intact. And she'd stopped bleeding already.

Taking a beating wasn't her natural response to provocations. She wanted so badly to break every bone in their degenerate bodies, but this was a circumstance where she needed to accept her punishment and keep her head down. If she took on those three more would come. She wasn't interested in becoming a target. Now, those demons thought she was weak and laughed about how stupid it was that Yashishi died under her hands. They said she'd gotten lucky. This was the result she wanted. She worked best when underestimated, and if the entire territory thought she was a weak, obedient fool then fine. It would only serve as an advantage if any of them made a move against her king.

And they would, eventually, move against her king.

Thinking of the king made her roll to her back so she could stare at the grimy stones forming the ceiling. He would be furious if he saw her in this state. He'd specifically told her to keep out of trouble. She'd just have to keep down here, sequestered, so she could avoid his attention. She had three days left to heal. He'd never even have to know.

Her eyes drifted closed as her body sank into the mattress, the soft comfort lulling her to sleep quickly.

She dreamed of ancient forests and sleeping on cozy beds in old castles, of walking through gardens and planting medicinal herbs. They were good dreams.

* * *

Hiei was only half listening to the updates offered to him by the advisers and generals. Maybe less than half. Was that possible?

Why were these meetings always so dull? Sometimes, he felt this is what purgatory might feel like, trapped in one endless cabinet meeting hearing about how a town on the outskirts had a good crop this year or how the military was sitting on it's ass because times were peaceful. Truly, this was the prelude to hell. Even he'd been second in command these meetings had hardly been tolerable. Now that he couldn't continuously avoid them with flimsy excuses and training they were even worse. How had Mukuro done it? How had she sat here every week listening to these idiots talk, talk, talk?

He wondered what his lunch would be. With Amon still on bed rest he was at the mercy of the kitchen staff once again and they were growing a little too creative for his tastes. Part of him wanted to march down to Amon's quarters and retract his one-week sentence. He thought better of it. He had a feeling if he started giving in to her that way he'd find himself on a slippery slope.

Maybe he could request the kitchen make him that stew Amon had brought for dinner last week. He'd enjoyed that. The potatoes were soft, there were no mushrooms, the broth was creamy and rich.

"Does your silence equate to approval on this matter, Hiei?"

Hiei rolled his attention from his empty stomach to the general of the western forces. Red eyes blinked with disinterest.

"What matter is that?"

The entire room grumbled in unison, all them showing their annoyance at his lack of attention. Hiei wanted to roll his eyes but refrained. He was the king goddammit. If they wanted him to pay attention they should be more interesting. Why couldn't they have these talks during sparring sessions? That's how he and Mukuro generally communicated.

Takeo, the general, sighed with clear disdain for Hiei. Hiei stared at him until he repeated himself. "The issue regarding that beastly servant of yours."

"Amon?" Hiei snorted, amused. She was hardly a beast. "What about her?"

No one seemed to like his humored tone, he got that message from the room full of glares directed his way. He didn't care. Amon was his business, and they didn't need to worry about her. After all, she served him and him alone.

"Last night three of Yashishi's former men apparently caught her lurking in the staff hall and took punishing her for her crimes into their own hands. She didn't put up much of a fight from my understanding."

Hiei's amusement died.

"Looks like maybe that idiot wasn't as strong as he claimed to be then. Getting killed by a trained dog. How disgraceful. If you ask me, the fact such a weakling was able to beat him so thoroughly just shows how useless he was." Another adviser huffed. "At least now Yashishi's men proved their point and settled down. We won't have to listen to them demand justice anymore."

"Yes. That is good news." Hiei wanted to demand the names of the three soldiers, but he didn't bark the command. His tone was lofty, out of sheer force of will, because inside he was utterly seething. He had told everyone in this room to leave it alone. In fact, _he_ was the one who had pointed out that Yashishi's death proved his worthlessness. But that wasn't good enough. They had to go and allow these ingrates to put their hands on Amon then celebrate it.

Justice.

Justice would be him stomping all their moronic throats in so he'd never have to hear them speak again.

Amon had been right about this, though. Him not handling her to the cabinet's satisfaction was a poor choice on his part. How frustrating.

He'd given the doctors strict orders to contact him if Amon found herself back in their care for any reason. He didn't want another episode of her going missing only for him to find out she was nearly dead. They hadn't told him she had arrived, so she hadn't sought medical attention. Did that mean she wasn't injured? Or did it mean she knew better than get to help for her injuries because she didn't want it getting back to him? She was determined to handle these issues herself. He wanted to know what damage those three fools had done. He wanted to go see her.

He couldn't. If he rushed over to her side the cabinet would see it as a weakness. Amon would be put in their sights and neither of them wanted that, he was sure. So he remained seated, working his expression into something of passable acceptance as the meeting continued around him. His input was limited, but he hoped it gave the impression he was bothering to listen.

Weak? How they think Amon was weak? Were none of them down there when she fought Yashishi? Of all the demons who had gathered around her and the general, had none of them bothered reporting what they'd seen to their commanders? How thoroughly had she been beaten that these mouthy demons could feel so secure in their false assumptions of her strength? She hadn't put up a fight, Takeo had said. Why not? It was obvious she could.

The memory of a jagged shard of ceramic pressing to his throat, a cruel smile unfurling into existence just for him to see struck Hiei. _"Whether or not I can seems a far cry less important than whether or not I will, sir."_

No. Amon wasn't weak. But it seemed as though she wanted to be seen that way. This was something she'd allowed, he decided. A purposeful act of helplessness.

He wanted to know why.

* * *

It was a few day later that Amon examined herself using the mirror in her room. For the most part the swelling in her eye had gone down, and the purplish tinges around it were nothing to fuss over. She looked tired, not abused. No marks on her neck or cheeks. The cut above her eyebrow from her fight with Yashishi had already started to scar. She wasn't entirely disappointed by the line cutting through the arch of her brow. Greyfield had always taken such care to not leave permanent marks on her face. He'd be furious to see her like this.

That brought a smile to her lips, where another scar lived. This one was hardly noticeable. Just a needle thin line of pale pink that showed where the skin had been burst open.

The seamstress had delivered her clothes to her, and the new ones fit her perfectly. Too perfectly. It felt strange to have tailored shirts and pants again. The vests all followed the line of her sides and waist a little too cleanly. Without a jacket on, one could definitely make out the flare of her hips. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Her blouses were long sleeved, a request she'd been sure to press the seamstress to accept. The cuffs were buttoned snugly, adorned with matte black cuff links. The sleeve up from the cuff was looser, thin material billowing slightly out from her arms.

The seamstress had seemed annoyed with the muscle Amon had developed, and clucked in disapproval during her fitting. Amon didn't mind. She liked having a strong body. And now that the king had forced weight back onto her, it seemed a waste to not rebuild what she'd had before. Granted, she was nowhere near her former build or strength, but she was confident in herself and that was an alarmingly new sensation.

Half the vests she'd bought were embroidered. All of them black with threads of garnet or lavender or glimmering white creating designs in the silky material. The other half were plain colors, grey, lavender and dark blue. Her shirts were white, easily matched with any of her other pieces, and the seamstress had insisted she accept a few other colored items as well. Amon doubted she'd ever wear them though. Maybe the lavender blouse, but the other shirts were short sleeved and she didn't like to show her arms. Her slacks were fitted to her form, either black or grey, some tapered and others the straight leg cut she was used to wearing. Her jackets, she now owned far more than three, could be interchanged with any of the vests. One of crushed black velvet, one of white. Lavender linen. One of dark plaid, the colors a mixture of the three that made the base of her wardrobe.

And the shoes. She was surprised and delighted by them. Her old ones had nearly been worn to pieces, despite her doing her best to care for them. The soles were worn through in several places. But these? Beautiful. And more than one pair! The seamstress and the shoe smith had worked together, it seemed, to match the styles of her outfits to her footwear.

Black oxfords that shone like dark diamonds. Two pairs of boots, ones that stopped just under her knee and looked to be riding boots, and ones that came up to mid-thigh where they folded over themselves. Those were her favorite. They reminded her of being a wild teenager, traveling through Makai and learning about the world. For today though, she would wear the oxfords. Professional. Once midnight struck she could get back to work, as her last day of leave was drawing to a close. She wanted to present herself to the king with sophistication.

So she dawned her shining shoes and her straight-legged pants, her black and white embroided vest and her crushed black jacket. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, her bangs freshly trimmed.

"Dashing." She told herself, spinning in front of the mirror with glee. "This is the best you've looked in ages. Now. Time for work."

* * *

Red eyes stared uneasily as the small white envelope sitting on his desk, being menacing and innocuous at the same time. Earlier in the day a courier had pressed into Hiei's reluctantly open palm. Now, hours later, Hiei opened it without joy or amusement. He knew who it was from. He could tell by the childish scrawl of his name on the front.

Truth be told, he was a little worried about the contents. He didn't want to read it.

 _Hey shortcake. Are you done with your bullshit yet? Haven_ _'t heard from you in a long time. Did your dumbass die or something? Better not have. I'll kick your ass. Write back._

 _Yusuke_

 _PS We_ _'re coming to see you soon whether you're ready or not. Don't be a dick about it._

Hiei growled, crumpling the lined paper into a ball. He let it fall to the floor out of his fist as he got to his feet. Stepping over the discarded letter he grabbed his cloak off a chair and headed for the roof. This room was too small, the walls to close to him. A pressure had formed under his sternum at the thought of those idiots coming to see him again. His oldest frie-allies. His oldest allies.

He didn't want them to come.

They hadn't interacted with each other at all since the funeral and their departure wasn't on good terms anyway. He thought Yusuke would have understood that. No matter who wrote to him, he didn't respond. He paced down the hall toward a stairwell that would take up a few floors up. When they'd last seen each other, he'd been angry, at himself, at Mukuro, at the world and at his frien—allies for trying to comfort him. He'd been lost in his own darkness. Their light had annoyed him. He didn't want to find his way out. He just wanted to be alone. Hadn't he told them that? He didn't need them or their pity. He was pretty sure he'd threatened to kill them if they ever came near him again.

Those had been his parting words, hadn't they?

It was all a little hazy around the edges. He couldn't remember what he'd actually said or if he'd just thought things. But did it matter anyway? Shouldn't they have known? He hadn't spoken to them since. He'd made no effort to keep in contact. Even when he'd received the birth announcement he'd refused to acknowledge it. Though, that particular mail still sat in a drawer in his desk. He couldn't bring himself to throw it away or burn it like the rest.

Why would they come?

Why now, of all times?

The anniversary of Mukuro's death crept ever closer, a shadow threatening to swallow him whole. The reminder that it had been a year already filled his stomach with stones. All he wanted to do when the day came was be alone, locked in the training room, destroying things until he passed out. Not entertaining a pack of idiots who didn't know when to shut up and leave him be.

He flipped himself out an open window, springing from the sill to overhang of the roof. With one hand he grabbed the edge and twisted his body upwards, landing on his feet a few inches from the drop off. Standing in the dying sunlight, those stones grew so heavy he couldn't help but lose to them. So he sank down and stared over his city, his kingdom with a sense of dread and pain he had been trying to overcome for nearly a year.

Mukuro would surely laugh at him before scolding him for pouting like a child. She'd tease him about his grief.

Hiei tipped his head back to look upwards. The sky was that shade of red that reminded him of dying coals lying in ashes, molten in the center and black all around. The wind twirled around him, billowing his cloak. From up here he could see a generous portion of the city. Demons still filled the streets, indistinct voices carrying up to him. It all culminated into white noise as he laid back, legs hanging over the lip of the roof. He closed his eyes. The wind, the voices, the hard surface under his back all helped him drift to sleep.

He dreamed of Yusuke and Kuwabara and Kurama and Yukina and even Botan and Genkai. He woke up feeling lost and angry and hopeless. The dreams had been a mixture of memories and fears. The worst sort of dreams. Full dark had fallen while he slept, the city around him quiet as death.

" _Hiei. Why do you insist on sitting up here alone?" Mukuro asked him, already knowing the answer but wanting to make him say it. Instead she earned a rueful glare._

" _I need to escape all the idiots for a while. So what?"_

" _That's not why."_

" _If you know then why bother asking?" He grumbled. After she came to sit beside him, he relented. "I like the quiet. It lets me check on her."_

 _Mukuro smiled then, and nodded._ _"You can always leave you know. You're not being forced to stay here."_

" _It's better this way." He responded gruffly. "It's better if I'm far away."_

He hated this. He hated these damned memories that made him feel warm and cold at the same time. He hated that Mukuro was still gone and he was still here. Back then he may not have been forced to stay but how could he leave now? The kingdom needed someone.

And Mukuro, in her infuriating glory, had chosen him.

He jerked his head to the side as Amon sat down next to him, one of her legs falling over the edge of the roof and the other bent at the knee so she could rest her arm on it. She said nothing.

"Has it been a week?" Hiei asked airily, as if he didn't know. He didn't want her to know he'd been keeping track. The weights in his bones lessened as he adjust to her presence. It didn't seem so dark out here suddenly, the dim lights of the city reflecting off her perfectly shined shoes. The barest hint of red light cut through the darkness, allowing him to more clearly see her features. He hadn't noticed it before, the faint glow.

"A day over, technically. It's past midnight." She assured him. "I've already pressed your clothes for tomorrow and I brought your some tea."

He glanced behind him to the tray of tea and snacks she had set down.

"Are you healed?" Hiei reached back and took his cup as well as a small pastry. Amon made some decent snacks, he had to admit. Stuffing the treat in his mouth so he could hold it with his teeth he grabbed the second cup and forced it into her hands. She accepted with a nod, a faint smile.

"Mostly." She told him, fingers curled around the warm cup. "I'll be completely back to normal in a few more days but I can't stand being forced to sit still and out of sight for so long. I needed to get back to work."

He understood that feeling.

"How bad was it?" He asked, watching her sip her tea. She glanced at him, the red glow of Alaric casting a sheen over her already keen eyes.

"Apologies, m'lord, but I'm unsure what you're asking me." She hedged, eyes closing.

He realized that was one of her tells. It was how she hid her expressions from him, closing her eyes. Looking away. Putting on airs of polite misunderstanding. As if she were stupid.

"You know, dodging my questions is starting to feel a lot like you're lying to me." Hiei told her, watching her eyes barely open. She focused on the dark city suspended under their hanging feet through the sliver of her lids. He wondered if she could see through those thick eyelashes of hers.

"I would never lie to you, sire." Amon kept her voice quiet. "I just don't think you need to worry about such small matters when you have so much responsibility already. Being a king is difficult, demanding. It requires all your waking energy. Listening to people, sorting ordeals, making laws and hearing cases. Inflicting punishments and meeting with dignitaries. So many different beings to make happy. It's an unwinnable fight, truly. There are too many demands and too many outcomes to appease everyone, but still you have to try. Your people need your attention and your focus and your care."

Hiei stared at her, brows pulled down in thought. That was an awfully insightful thing to say. It was almost as if Amon knew from experience how hard leading could be. How annoying it could be.

But she still didn't answer his question, and he noticed that too.

"You know exactly what I was asking you." Hiei glared at her. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't sit there and try to defy me by appeasing my ego, Amon. Now, let's start over. How badly did they hurt you?"

She sighed, closing her eyes once again and sipping her tea before answering. "Nothing was broken and the swelling has gone down on my eye. The bruises are all nearly healed. As I said, in a few days I'll be back to new."

He looked away from her to glare over his city.

"You're awfully calm for a woman who allowed herself to be beaten by three thugs to prove a point." Hiei growled.

"It'll be fine, m'lord. Please don't worry so much about me." She pressed gently.

"Why did you let them hurt you? You can fight. I've seen it. You don't like being touched by anyone but Marielle, I've seen that too." He lowered his voice in his frustration. "I just don't understand the benefit of playing dumb and weak. Why not fight? Why not establish your dominance?"

"I have no dominance in this place." She informed him easily. "Like it or not, sire, I'm a slave. I'm _your_ slave. All that matters to me is that your reputation is secured."

"You're not a slave."

"I beg to differ."

He jerked himself around to face her, seething. "Why do it say it like that?"

"Like what?" Her expression so cool it chilled the wind.

"Like it doesn't matter!" Hiei snarled at her. "Why aren't you angry about being forced to work for me? Why aren't you furious that I'm in this position over you? Why don't you _fight back_?"

Amon looked him over then smiled, shaking her head. "Oh, sire."

Hiei opened his mouth to yell at her some more but was caught off by his back hitting the roof unexpectedly. His teacup dropped from his hand in his shock. Amon hovered on him, one palm pressed flat over his shoulder, her knees straddling one of his legs. He glanced to the side and noticed she had caught his falling cup in her other hand. She moved it carefully out of the way before looking down at him.

That red glow sharpened the gleam in her eyes, made it look something between sinister and welcoming. His eyes became transfixed on her face, lips still parted. His chest lifted and fell heavily. Amon had only touched him to push him back, but it had been with enough intention he had followed through with the movement, caught off guard. She'd been so fast.

"I'm not worried about your position in regards to myself, m'lord." Amon spoke in what sounded like a warm purr to Hiei's growingly warm ears. "The fact of the matter is that you don't trust me to know what I'm doing. I have dealt with kings before. I have served men you'd kill on principle. None of that matters. What matters is that, unlike your other weapons, I sharpen myself. Fear not, my king, I allowed those unruly soldiers to do what they wanted because it suited me. I allow your generals to talk down about me because it's what I need them to do."

Hiei swallowed, enraptured.

"I am the greatest tool you have in your arsenal, and whether or not you want to use me in that capacity is your decision, but I will continue to act in your best interest regardless. Your people think I'm some pet of yours, a weak thing that follows at your heels out of obedience and servitude. This benefits both of us. It allows me to act as I need to, and it allows you to display your authority as necessary. But, I will put you at ease." She dropped her face closer to his, falling to her elbow so all he could see was her eyes and the intent glimmering in them. "You became my king out of compulsion, but you only remain my king because _that_ _'s what I want_."

She pulled back then, no wicked smile to tell him she was just fooling around. No indication she'd been anything but serious.

 _Whether or not I could seems a far cry less important than whether or not I will_.

Something hammered in Hiei's chest, a feeling he didn't fully recognize as she looked over his _beastly_ servant.

"I thought you couldn't harm me." He told her, once again swallowing. Not from fear, but from anticipation. He wasn't sure of what.

"I can't intend to harm you." She corrected. "You don't live this long in chains without learning how to work around them, sire."

The beating grew harder, louder, threatening to deafen him and shake his frame. Was this excitement? He hadn't felt it in so long it was foreign to him.

"Did you kill Greyfield?" He asked her.

"No. But I did learn something from his death." Amon rose to her feet, brushing off her pants.

"That was?"

When she looked at him again he couldn't help but tilt his head back as he grinned. He wanted to hold her gaze. He wanted to see that look in her eyes for as long as possible. It warmed him, rekindled the ashes he had thought had grown cold inside him.

"That inaction is sometimes the only true action one should take." She did not smile in return. "You cannot win every battle, sire, but you can't lose if you aren't even participating."

"A dangerous outlook."

"One that I only summon when necessary, I assure you. By spirit I am not one to lose." Her eyes scanned over him. "So when I do, there is a very good reason. I fought Greyfield's assailant you know. He made me. So unfortunate I was overtaken and failed to defeat that demon. It was miraculous, the way he simply knew where to hit me to knock me unconscious. It must have been pure luck. The same luck that led that demon to know exactly what poison to use and which food to put it in."

Hiei got to his feet, thrumming with exhilaration. "Did you order training attire when you saw the seamstress?"

That caught Amon off guard. She blinked at him, tilting her head to the side.

"No, sir. Should I have?"

"I think Yusuke left some of his a while back. They won't fit you properly but they'll be good enough."

"Sire?"

"Come with me. We'll get changed and then we'll go down to the caverns." Hiei grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her behind him, buzzed off the feeling of excitement rampaging through him.

"Sir, please, wait. I don't understand." Amon stumbled behind him. "Why am I changing clothes? Why the caverns?"

"You're going to fight me." Hiei looked over his shoulder at her, eyes glowing. Her expression shifted to one of concern. "I want to see what those nails of yours can do, Amon. You've got me excited to face you. Let's go."

"Excited?" She questioned quietly behind him, allowing him to lead her to the roof access door.

The hall they entered was lit, causing Amon to blink to adjust her eyes. Her throat went dry and she was glad for the gloves otherwise the king might notice the sudden sweat dousing her palms. Those dark garnet irises looked positively alive with light as he glanced back at her. His expression fluttered in her chest. Did he realize just how radiant he looked? His fingers on her wrist through her clothes suddenly felt far too intimate. She trembled in his grasp. He had her excited too, but she was positive it was in an entirely different way.

He glanced back at her at the gentle tremor that shook her. "Is that fear shaking you, Amon?"

"No sire, far from it." She responded.

"Good."


	11. Marcid

**A/N: Here is chapter 11 in a pretty timely manner! I** **'m excited about this chapter. I think at some point I should get a plan going for this story or I'm going to run into that age old issue of writing things that contradict earlier chapters. Or rambling.**

 **Hope you all have a good holiday!**

…

Hiei pushed Amon into his private bath with a pile of clothes in her arms. He hoped she got stains on that stupid yellow shirt. He hated that pale color. Plus he didn't want to give it back to Yusuke. He'd rather Amon ruin it. He stripped out of his own clothes, tugging on his most ragged pants. Stooping down he began to wind fabric ties around the bottom of the pants and down over his ankles.

Amon stood behind the door he'd slammed closed, staring at the yellow and blue he'd thrust into her fumbling hands. Her eyes looked around his bathroom, absorbing the details. Old-fashioned, like hers, but cleaner. More open. His tub was larger than her own, as if it were designed to be used for more than one person. Her brows pinched together. Did the king have other people in here? It wouldn't surprise her, she'd just never seen him with anyone. Perhaps he was the secretive type when it came to his lovers. With great care she put her borrowed clothes on the counter in front of a wide mirror. In this light her bruises were less hidden than she'd thought they were. He was right, she needed to get more lights in her room.

Reluctantly, she began to undo the buttons of her vest. Every article she shrugged out of was carefully folded and laid to rest on the counter until she stood in nothing but the binding around her chest and her undergarments. With shaky fingers she pulled on the light blue pants, tying them around her waist. The action came to her hands fluidly as if they remembered how many times before she'd performed it before. The material rested against her skin pleasantly, the design offering plenty of room to move her legs. Pulling on the shirt she faced herself in the mirror. Sleeveless. Not ideal. Her scars were out in the open and she was ashamed to look at them so she tried to study the way the clothes fit her instead.

With some vanity, she flexed her right arm and watched the muscle of her bicep swell up. That earned a smirk from her. She did the same with her left arm, then posed with both at the same, spinning to study the muscles of her shoulders and back in the mirror in these flattering lights. It seemed like only yesterday she could count the ridges of her spine and her ribs. Now the king's fingers didn't even touch when he pulled on her wrist.

For the first time in years, her body felt like home.

Tears welled up, unbidden.

A rough series of knocks at the door and a gruff "Are you done yet?" made her wipe at her eyes with the heel of her palm. Sniffling to shake off the emotions threatening to overtake her, she grabbed her jacket and pulled it on before stepping out of the bathroom with some discomfort at being seen in this attire. Especially after all her work to look so polished for her first official day as the king's personal servant.

"Take the jacket off."

Amon tensed at the command, eyes moving from the floor to the king's steady gaze. He wasn't even ready yet, she realized. He was still shirtless, something that was hard _not_ to notice. He had scars too. One running across his stomach side to side, the width of her finger. Smooth. A blade? But a scar that long, that wide… the attack should have killed him. Her thoughts appreciated her king's strength as she mindlessly followed his command and took her jacket off. It hung from her limp gloved-fingers as she realized the king had other scars too. One on his arm she had never really seen because it was hidden by his bandages. More randomly across his chest and stomach.

There were stories in that ruined skin and she wanted to know what they were.

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life in long sleeves, Amon?" He asked her with a relentless stare, taking the jacket from her and tossing it across the room to his bed. "Scars are proof we didn't die. There is no reason to hide them. All they do is tell others just how much stronger than them you are."

"I wish I saw them that way. All I see when I look at my body is proof of how weak I've been. How cowardly." She admitted. "I hate them. I hate that you've seen them."

"I didn't have these two when I came to Alaric." Hiei pointed out the one on his arm and the one on his stomach. "I got them during a fight here, the fight that led me to become Mukuro's heir."

Her brow jumped without her permission. "I don't know how you survived from the looks of them."

"I didn't." Finally, Hiei pulled his shirt. He grabbed his sword and tied it to his side with the red fabric he used as a belt. "Or at least, I hadn't cared if I did or not. The point was to win. Surviving was second place."

Amon's eyes pierced him, her attention absolute and striking. But she said nothing. No accusation, no laughter.

"We all have scars, Amon. Anyone who doesn't is just waiting for theirs to appear."

"Did you win?" She breathed the question.

"Yes."

Her head bobbed in acceptance, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she sank into thought. He watched her for a moment as she mulled his words over. She still had the worst habit of hunching down, making herself small. No wonder it had taken him so long to realize how much taller than him she was. Even through this conversation, through dressing, that underlying current of excitement thrilled through him.

"Let's go." He started walking toward the door.

"Sire, I'd like to protest. Up on the roof, that was more of a bluff than anything. I just wanted you to stop worrying about me." Amon followed him during her rambling. "I can't actually fight you. Firstly, I'm no match for you. Secondly, it's improper. Thirdly-"

"You can't or you don't want to?" Hiei kept his eyes forward as they worked through the empty, quiet halls.

"Either? Both?"

"Too bad. You better find a way." He told her, grinning ahead of them where she couldn't see. Then, to goad her he looked over his shoulder. "You don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

Her face flushed, her head ducking further down. Her arms wound around herself her hands doing their best to hide her exposed skin. Like this, she appeared to be exactly what the cabinet had accused her of being: weak. Hiei knew better.

"Stand up straight Amon, stop disgracing yourself by stooping." He scolded her. She immediately straightened and Hiei chewed on his tongue. "I'm going to need to think about the way I speak to you."

He turned to face forward again.

"To what end?" Amon asked quietly.

"So I stop accidentally forcing you to do things that could just as easily be requested."

"It's not your job to change yourself to suit my needs, sire. It's my job to fulfill your wishes."

"Including fighting me." Hiei caught her and she knew from the way that blush returned to her cheeks when he glanced at her. "You said you've served kings before, isn't that right?"

"Yes sir."

"Well." Hiei lead her into the caverns before untying his sword and setting it against the wall. He turned to face her as she stepped out of her shiny shoes. When she faced him, it was barefoot and looking uncomfortable. "I guess you should know by now that I'm not like other kings. We-"

"Do things differently in Alaric." She finished for him, used to the phrase as it was being wielded now. He smirked at her.

"If you already know, then why bother arguing?" He asked her.

"Fighting with a king isn't unfamiliar to me, m'lord, it's just that," she swallowed looking around. Trepidation entered her voice, her expression, her body language, "with the collar my strength is limited."

"In what way?" Hiei frowned.

"In all ways. I can't access my energy, it's been locked away. Another thing taken from me. And my body, it's grown weak. I do enough exercise to keep in shape, to stay strong enough to fight if needed, but beyond that I'm honestly not what you think I am." Her eyes drifted to him, a mixture of sadness and anger coloring her gaze. "But in my younger days sire, I would have given you a run for your money."

"You're too young to be reminiscing on the glory days." He paced toward her, his energy coiling around him in golden tendrils that shimmered in an almost painful way.

"I'm not as young as I used to be." She argued, shaking her head. "Sire, you want a fight but I sincerely don't think I'll give you one."

"You fought Yashishi."

"I didn't know what I was doing. I thought I was dreaming." Amon sighed, arms crossing over her middle again. Her skin prickled with the heat of the king's energy. "I don't even dream of raising my hand to you."

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Amon?" He asked her, beginning to pace around her, eyes roving all over as he assessed her.

"I'd assume you see a woman." She followed him with her eyes, pivoting slowly to keep him in sight. A natural response to being hunted by a predator.

"I see anger. I see so much unbridled fury kept contained. The thing about that is, sooner or later, the vessel always cracks under that much pressure. That's what happened with you and Yashishi, and it will happen again if you don't learn to release the pressure gradually." His eyes shone dangerously.

"Maybe I should take up knitting." She quipped.

"I want you to fight me, Amon. It doesn't matter if you win or you lose. It doesn't matter if you hurt me. What matters is that you fight." He stopped simmered in front of her, looking up into her eyes. "Though, earlier, you said you don't lose. You choose not to fight. Is that what this is, Amon? Are you putting me off to protect yourself?"

"No, that's not-"

"So you're stalling because you're protecting me?" Hiei pressed, stepping closer to her until she stepped back. Her arms came down as she moved backwards. "You think you're dangerous enough to harm me? Is that why you're making me tell you so many times to fight? So it'll be my own fault when those pretty nails of yours rip me to pieces? Is that it, Amon? Are you saving me from yourself?"

"No. No. I don't think that." Amon shook her head.

The king's energy was growing oppressive, scalding. The hair on her arms rose where it brushed over her. A shiver rolled down her shoulders and spine. Sweat began to bead up on her neck and temples. He was pushing her into a corner, she felt the wall approaching.

"You think I'm too weak to defeat you." Hiei told her, menacing. "That's cute, but it's not true."

"I know that it's not true." She told him, her voice wavering between agitation and respect.

Hiei fought down a gleeful grin. She was breaking. He could see it.

"Then what is it, Amon? Are you too weak to fight back but too prideful to lose? Are you going to just stand there and let me take my anger out on you?" He was nearly on top of her, if he'd been taller he'd be looming over her. As it was he nearly pressed against her, forcing her further back into the wall even though the rock bit into her shoulders. She pressed herself away from his domineering presence but had nowhere else to go. He saw her gloved fingers grip at the rock behind her, attempting to find purchase where there was none. His slammed his palm against the wall next to her. "Which is it, Amon? Are you a fighter or a coward? Are those scars because you were too strong too die or from being to weak to live? Tell me, Amon. Which is it? _What are you?_ Are you going to fight back or are you going to stand there and take it? _Show me who you really are._ _"_

Like they were filled with magical intention, the words breathed a response into Amon and Hiei watched as she transformed before his very eyes. A rare, deadly flower blooming in a once-and-a-lifetime moment. The air around her shifted and her shoulders fell away from her ears. In a swift movement her body spun around his, her arm slipping under his as her back foot hooked his leg and pulled it from beneath him. The momentum of the action allowed her to pile-drive him into the ground, her fingers splayed over his chest.

"You don't want to know who I really am, sire, so don't ask for that which you can't handle." Her voice was cold, eyes dark. There was no shame or fear of what her behavior might bring.

Hiei rolled onto his shoulders, spinning his legs above him to clear her away before he landed in a lunge, teeth bared as he grinned at her. Her eyes narrowed. "Don't ever go back to whatever that mask is you wear for everyone else, Amon. Not with me. Never again with me. This is who I want serving me."

"Are you sure about that?" She slid one foot around in a trained motion, drawing a semi-circle around her body, her hands raising loosely. "I'm not a very nice person, sire. You might not like what you see."

"You'll be in good company. I'm not very nice either." Hiei rose to his feet and looked her over. "Are you done moping?"

"I don't mope." She shot back at him dryly. "Forgive me for showing you the respect you apparently don't want."

"Show me your respect when I've earned it." Hiei curled his fingers into his fist so hard the knuckles crunched. "You're stalling again."

"On the contrary, sir, you're the one who stopped coming after me. You want this fight, you're going to be the one to instigate it. I will not be accused of attacking the king." Amon informed him, one brow raised.

"Mouthy all of the sudden." Hiei chided lightly, amused. Then he appeared right in front of her and watched her eyes widen in surprise. "Might have to wash your mouth out later."

He aimed a punch for her chest but Amon pulled herself to the side just before the connection. Her fingers encircled his wrist as she stepped to the outside of his arm. With another hand landing between his shoulders she shoved him away from her. Hiei recovered quickly and pounced again, this time to be evaded by another swift sidestep. For a while this is how they danced. Amon allowing him close enough to attack only to shift away from him at the last possible second. Her eyes studied him and Hiei loved it.

That cold look. The calculation of her tracking his movements. Of learning what he would do next. She was baiting him, testing him. This was the intelligence he'd seen in her before. And this was how he knew that Yashishi's death was inevitable even if it had happened by mistake. As soon as he made Amon his enemy he was doomed.

Hiei launched at her again, but before striking toward her he instead jerked his body around hers. He'd been watching her too. He knew how she would move to evade him. His leg came up and then across carried by the momentum of his body twisting. His calf landed across her shoulders and Amon made a noise as she listed forward. He took that stumble as an opportunity to kick the back of her knee. She collapsed down to one bent leg and a snarl ripped from her chest when his hand wound around her throat from behind. Her skin felt hot under his touch, her pulse hammering, her breaths coming harshly. Hiei allowed his palm to climb up her throat until it forced her head back so he could look into her eyes.

The darkness had fled from those icy irises and left only bright fury behind. Bruised pride. Endless anger. Sharp intellect. And a woman he felt like he'd never actually met stared back at him, her lips pulled back over her dangerous looking teeth.

"That's it, Amon. This is who I've been dying to meet." Hiei purred to her. "Look at you, full of that wrath I knew was there. Let it out, Amon. I can take it from you tonight."

"I don't need your pity." She spit and those ugly words uttered with that growl made his lips curl and his eyes glow. "You have no idea what you're asking me to do. Do you have any idea the punishment for harming you? Death. I'll be right back where I was when you found me."

"You think I'd let that happen to you? Do you doubt me so much?" Hiei kept his hold on her, kept staring down into her raging eyes. "You're not going anywhere, Amon, no matter what happens down here tonight. I'm not getting rid of you so show me your teeth and let's beat each other until all we can feel is this moment."

Something clicked in her as she looked up at him, head craned back painfully. His grip on her throat wasn't tight, just demanding. He hadn't actually injured her. He could, she knew he could. His energy broiled with strength. He was holding back so he wouldn't actually hurt her. And now she knew why.

He needed this. This wasn't just about her proving her strength or fighting back. It was about him needing someone to challenge him. He knew about her buried rage and her swallowing down her emotions because it was the same thing he was doing. All of that made sense. He was trying to so hard to be a good leader, a steady king, but it was wearing down his bones. This was his reprieve. Some men relaxed by taking baths or reading or walking through their cities. Not her king. Of course not.

Her king was fluent in violence, just like her. So violence she would speak. This would be so much easier now knowing it's what he wanted, what he needed. And she was the one he'd come to for this comfort. That brought a new heat to her veins.

Time to see where the lines were and to toe them with that expert precision she was known for.

"Get your hand off of me if you want to keep it." She warned him, bringing one hand up to wind around his wrist with a crushing grip.

His eyes lit up with anticipation.

She marveled at the expression he offered for a moment before surging upwards out of his hold. This time she didn't bother dodging or weaving around him. Instead she slammed her fist into his chest so hard he was forced to stagger back. Those wide garnet eyes blinked once, then twice, before they moved to study her again. Amon ran at him and this time the king had to dance back to keep out of her hands. She wasn't as fast as him, not now. Maybe one day she'd be again. For now this would have to work.

They traded a few blows, a few heavy hitting kicks. They tied up and separated, then raced back toward one another. Amon knew he was holding back on her. Part of her was annoyed but mostly she was thankful. This was going to hurt tomorrow as it was. A flurry of fists and feet, blurred movements of ducking and dodging around one another. Then she rushed through an opening and took him around his middle, forcing him to the ground.

"Are you going to keep holding back on me?" The king panted under her. "Stop hiding behind those gloves Amon. I want to see what those nails of yours can do. I'm beginning to think you just prefer them long."

"What makes you think you've earned seeing them?" Amon demanded of him, eyes narrowed. Knees on his arms to pin him down she straddled his chest. She clutched at black strands with one gloved hand, then while staring into his glimmering eyes, she used her teeth to peel the glove off her other hand.

Hiei almost didn't notice her nails catching the light before she moved to slash at him. Something about watching her pry her glove off so viciously with her teeth brought a beast alive inside of him. He wondered what it would feel like to have those canines buried in his flesh. Then he roused himself to react to her hand dropping down.

He listed both of them to the side, grabbing at her arm to keep that clawed hand from hitting it's mark. They scuffled before he pushed her off of him with his foot planted against her hip. She landed on the ground and launched toward him again. He planted his feet to accept her assault now that he wasn't prone.

He felt alive for the first time in ages.

…

By the time Amon had passed out from her exertion it was nearly morning. Hiei carried her over his shoulder back to his room, her limp body growing heavier each step he took. His eyes wanted to close. Warmth coursed through him. He hadn't felt this way in a very long time, maybe even since before Mukuro died. His shirt was in shreds, destroyed with expert precision by Amon's nails. The skin underneath was smeared with dirt and blood. His wounds stung with the salt of sweat. Bruises marred his chest and legs and arms. There was a scratch on his cheek, a lucky cheap shot.

Amon was the same as him, carrying the proof of their match on her skin in royal purples and midnight blues. She wore the colors so often lately, he found them oddly complimentary to her complexion. Her red hair fell wild around her when he deposited her roughly onto his bed. Dirt stained her cheeks and arms. The borrowed clothes were as ruined as he'd hoped they'd be, muddied with streaks of blood.

Hiei had been careful not to hit Amon too hard, not to open her skin more than maybe a few scratches. This wasn't about harming her. It was about expending energy. She hadn't disappointed him. In fact, she'd surpassed his expectations.

She was, contrary to what he'd thought some days prior, a beast. When prodded. Just for him. Those deadly nails and those acidic barbs were all his to enjoy. He left her on his bed so he could bathe. In the bathroom he spied her new clothes and he studied them with dirty hands, taking note of the designs and fabrics. He hadn't really paid attention to how they'd fit her. He'd been too intoxicated with the idea of fighting her. How had she looked in them again? They looked smaller than her previous garments. Or maybe they were just cut differently? Hard to say by just holding them up.

He left them on the counter, then stripped out of his own attire. The shower washed the deep reds and muddy browns from his skin and hair. The water circled the drain in shades of pink and mauve.

It had been a good fight, even if he had to hold back.

Amon had something in her he wanted to see unleashed again. This was her without her energy? Remarkable. What had she been like at full power? He hungered for that fight. The image of her pulling her glove off as she looked down at him trailed warmth down his spine and into his lower stomach. He swallowed, twisting the faucet knob to the coldest temperature. His eyes pinched closed as the icy wave fell over him, causing him to gasp. The warmth faded, the image with it. He forced himself to focus on her mistakes, on where she'd been sloppy. She had a lot of room for improvement.

She'd get better as they continued this practice. For now he'd need to see how long it took her to recover so he could plan their sessions around her ability to heal. She likely wouldn't wake up until late in the day, if not until tomorrow. The water turned off and Hiei stepped away to go back to the mirror before entering the bath. His fingers followed the lines of the cuts Amon had drawn along his skin. A wild, carelessly crafted piece of art.

The hot water of the bath caused him to hiss, his wounds aggravated. But after a few moments he sank into the water and relaxed. There were always healing minerals and herbs in his bathwater. He'd loung for a few necessary minutes before drying off and sleeping. By the time he awoke he'd be back to full health.

He could have brought Amon in here, but he didn't think that would be wise. She was so careful with her body and who touched it. Him pulling her into a bath while she was unconscious might've set off alarms better left unrung. When she came to, he'd offer the bath to her. It would be her choice. His lips lifted as he could already hear her telling him how improper it was for him to even suggest such a thing. _"M'lord, that's just not how things are done. I couldn't possibly. You're too kind._ " Hiei mocked in his thoughts. She was so strange. It was amusing.

But it was nice that someone actually viewed him as a king.

Still. He wondered what his name sounded like when her voice spoke it. Had she ever uttered it? From her interaction with Marielle he thought not. To her, he was the king, her king. He sank into the water.

What would it take to wake her from that delusion? He could, if he wanted, just order her to say his name. That wasn't how he wanted it to happen. He didn't completely understand why it mattered at all. The rest of the staff could learn a thing from Amon when it came to showing respect.

He crawled out of the bath and toweled off, trying to shake the thoughts away as he shook the water from his hair. He left the bathroom with the towel around his waist. Normally he'd have left it behind, but again, he didn't want Amon waking up to something as suspicious as him prowling around his room stark naked while she slept. So he slipped his pants on under the towel before casting it to the floor. Once again he checked on his sleeping servant. She had rolled onto her stomach, decidedly taking up most of the bed with how she sprawled out. It was the most comfortable he'd ever seen her look. So he decided to let her have the bed, just this once, just for today, as a reward for surprising him.

Instead, he climbed up onto the windowsill and settled against it, head leaning against the cool panes of glass. Sleep came quickly to him and his body welcomed it with open arms.

…

Amon came to without fanfare. Groggy, she lifted her head and yawned, moving to sit on her knees as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. Her body felt stiff and sore, but she was happily well rested. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so easily or so comfortably. The new mattress the king had made her get was truly a life saver.

"About time."

Her head whipped around to stare at the source of the voice. The king sat in a chair, chin raised and one foot pressed to the edge of the table tipping him back haphazardly. He radiated impishness and imperviousness with that haughty look on his face.

"Granted, you're still awake before I expected you to be. You keep surprising me."

Amon stared at him, then slowly realized that she was not in her own room. Nor was she in her own clothes. What was she doing in the king's bed again?

The night before flooded back to her and she closed her eyes, steeping in the memories. That's right. She'd lost consciousness down in the caverns after a long but spirited session of fighting the king. He'd demanded she show him who she really was, hadn't he? That's right, he had. And he'd told her to never don her polite servant mask in front of him again.

"You look confused." The king teased her. "Don't tell me I literally knocked you senseless."

"We both know you weren't going hard enough to do that." She told him, opening her eyes. "I'm just surprised to wake up in a room not my own."

"I didn't have the energy to haul you all the way down to the forgotten corners of the castle." The king explained. "I brought you here instead. Your clothes are in the bathroom where you left them."

"Thank you." She slid from the bed then grimaced at the stains she'd left on the comforter. "I'll have your linens washed today."

"You did well last night." Garnet eyes followed her as she padded toward the bathroom. "I'm eager for next time."

"Next time?" Amon paused, turning to stare at him. "What's this about next time?"

"You didn't think I was going to let you get away that easily, did you? You were sloppy. Don't worry. We'll practice together enough that you'll be polished again soon." He pulled his foot from the side of the table so the four feet of the chair bit against the stone floor, then he rose.

Sloppy? He thought she was sloppy? Her cheeks burned. "I beg your pardon? You're the first to complain about my methods."

"Then whoever else has talked to you has been lying." The king walked up to her. "Your timing was off several times. My expectations for you are greater than whoever came before."

He was goading her again, she realized. Her expression flattened.

"Take a bath, Amon. The water will help you heal." He ordered warmly. "You can just throw those clothes away. I don't need them anymore. You do have more training attire don't you?"

"Not currently. I didn't realize being a punching bag was on my list of duties." She drawled. "I'll add clothes to my shopping list."

"Punching bag? I have marks on my body that I've never received from any punching bag."

"Is this where I'm supposed to apologize?" Amon asked him, assessing him. "You told me to fight you. You told me you wanted me to take off my gloves. I was under the impression everything that came after would appease you." 

"I see that mouth of yours didn't fade overnight." He tucked a crooked knuckle under her chin with a glint to his eye.

"You wanted defiance, sir, and I live to please."

He chuckled and lowered his hand. "Go wash up, then join me for lunch. We'll go over your duties then." 

"I should take my clothes down to my own bath. The walls talk, sire, and I'm sure they're already whispering about me being in here. If I leave this room with wet hair in the same clothes from last night the rumor mill will begin with unbridled energy." Amon frowned. Then her eyes moved to glimpse the large bath again.

Hiei followed her gaze with humor. "I suppose, then, you shouldn't wash your hair."

"It's not-"

"Proper?" Hiei supplied, growing overly amused with how accurately he had guessed her arguments. "Who cares about a few rumors? Unless you're worried about someone's opinion of you."

"Not quite." She allowed, glancing at him. "It's their opinion of you that concerns me. A servant acting as consort to a king is nothing new. But you've already spared me from death twice. If your men were to think that you did so out of some sense of affection or lust, that would spell problems for both of us."

"Just take the damn bath, Amon. I'll handle the consequences. Just give me a reason to yell at you in public later and no one will care." He waved off her concern. "Now, get in there. The faster you heal the faster we can do it again."

Amon heeded his command, closing the door softly her, her hand pressed to the wood grain. She leaned her forehead against the surface. The king was so different from Greyfield. It left her pulled in two directions, stretched between old expectations and new. Often, it was for the better here, but that never took away the fear. Even now she waited for the pain to come. Being so disrespectful to her master always came with harsh consequences. Any second now the collar would do its job and deliver its patented shock disabling her for a few moments.

Yet nothing came.

Her eyes opened. Did…did the king _really_ like her behaving this way? Her king was so strange. What was she supposed to do with him?

Expression dull, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. The answer came to her sounding flat even in her head. She was supposed to fight him, apparently. Of all the foolish notions. Seriously. She'd barely held her own against him last night and he hadn't even been near his full strength. And he'd called her sloppy! That wasn't just rude it was literally adding insult to injury.

How _dare_ he! Who did he think he was? Challenging her despite her protests only to tell her that she wasn't up to standard. She'd known that already! She'd told _him_ that. Of all the ridiculous, impertinent—

Amon dropped to the floor gasping in painl, her entire being vibrating through the wave of electricity battering her systems. Her fingernails ground against the stones beneath her palms. Through sheer stubborn will she forced herself to _some_ dignity. She would not collapse onto her stomach. She would _not_. Never again.

The collar's electric pulses wracked through her form threatening to crumble what little composure she had left. Amon remained on her hands and knees. She'd been for so long that she'd forgotten how powerful the shocks could be. Her mental tired must not count toward the king telling her to be herself. She should have known. It was always the same. No matter the differences between the king and Greyfield she was still a slave. How infuriating that her own private thoughts had landed her in this trouble once again.

Still, she refused to collapse to her stomach. Refused to follow Greyfield's rule that she lie face down on the ground. She knew it would stop the pain but she wouldn't relent. Not today. Not here. Not on the king's bathroom floor like a beaten dog. The tingle of electricy strangled her, burning her throat. Her thoughts grew fuzzy. Another pulse forced her down to her elbows as she tried to snarl. This wasn't Greyfield's world anymore. She wasn't a tamed animal here in Alaric. She did not have to collapse to show her submissiveness. No. She wouldn't. She wouldn't. She wouldn't!

The shocks grew worse with her obstinate attitude. Her tongue grew numb. That couldn't mean anything good. Did she taste copper or smell it?

Not even noticing the pain stop, she fell to her stomach, once again swallowed by the damnable darkness that meant she'd lost a fight she should have won.

…

Amon's body felt light. She dreamily floated in that ever comfortable warmth. Had she fallen asleep in the sun again? Father was going to be annoyed if she wasn't paying attention to the tutors. Lazily, she shifted to press her cheek into the leg propping her up.

"Kuya." She murmured peeling her eyes open. Reality spun in its axis before crashing through her pleasant memory. Thta was not Kuya's leg. This was not a sunbeam she found herself bathing in.

The black material of the king's pants clung to his legs. Amon realized that was due to him sitting on the side of the bath, his legs in the water supporting her body. Now that her eyes were open his fingers slipped away from her head which he'd been holding tipped back to keep her from slipping under the edge of the water and drowning. Embarrassed, Amon groaned, curling her knees to her chest. She pressed her face into them. Her hair floated around her, acting as a thin fiery shield.

"Did I do this to you?""

The king's voice thrummed through her, cautious and deep. It made her wince to imagine his expression. Amon pushed herself a little further down into the warm water. Drowning sounded like a pleasant escape at the moment.

"Amon, you need to tell me if I pushed you too far. I knew you shouldn't have woken so soon. You needed more time-"

"I did this to myself, m'lord." Amon cut him off quietly, her voice hindered by her knees. The water smelled of minerals and salt.

"What does that mean?" He shifted behind her, the water rippling and rocking with his movement. She hoped he was leaving the bath, not coming closer to her. Again she she hunkered down. The water rose over her chin to wet her bottom lip.

"It means I was a gool to think I'd ever get to exist again."

There was silence and stillness. She hoped he would leave her to sulk for a moment alone. Then it wouldn't be so damn disgraceful. He didn't leave.

He never seemed to leave.

"I should get dressed. I have a lot to learn today if I'm going to be effective." Amon rose to her feet and moved to step over the edge of the tub.

The king stood in front of her, eyes narrowed.

"Pitying yourself doesn't cause blackouts, Amon. What happened to you?"

She didn't answer, impossibly tired by this conversation. She outright didn't have the energy to explain herself. When nothing left her lips the started in again in his trademark fashion.

"Are you ill?"

Always with her health. One would think a being of his power level would have long ago stopped carrying about mites like herself.

"No sire, I'm not ill."

His eyes scoured her as she stepped around him to retrieve her clothes. So much for not leaving his room with wet hair. She supposed people would expect this more, though. Her leaving looking exhausted and beaten would make sense to the rest of the staff with their prejudiced opinions toward the king.

"Amon."

Her head bowed down, exhaustion and raw emotion-pain-weighing her down. Why did he care so much? Why did he care at all? She didn't miss Greyfield but sometimes she did wish the king kept his concerns to himself. Why was he staring at her now? Her frustration grew. She just wanted to wallow in her shame alone.

"You're still bleeding." He told her, still staring.

He stared a lot didn't he? Did he realize? Also, what was he talking about? Amon turned her attention to the mirror and then blinked slowly. Her fingers lifted to her upper lip and wiped at the blood trailing from her nostrils. It dripped down her wet chin to stain her borrowed yellow shirt. Not borrowed, she remembered. The king told her to throw it away.

"Self-pity doesn't do that either." His tone was careful, guarded.

And still, he watched her.

"No, I suppose it doesn't." Amon admitted, distractedly allowing her gaze to travel toward where she had finally succumbed to her punishment. There was a small slick of blood on the stone floor too. Had she been bleeding this whole time?

"You called out. I found you curled in a ball bleeding and trembling." The king looked at the drying mess on the floor when she turned to him. That's when she noted the blood on his fingers and palms. His brows where pinched together. "I put you in the bath to heal. I thought I'd broken you."

Like she was a fucking toy. She calmed herself.

"I told you, this wasn't you. It was me." Amon grumbled, frustrated. She pushed her wet bangs from her face. "Or maybe this _is_ your doing. You and your ridiculous notions. 'We do things differently in Alaric.'." She snorted and a thick stream of blood flooded from her nose. She felt it and so she used the shirt to wipe her face. "Maybe it's Greyfield's fault for putting this goddamn contraption on me. No. Ultimately, the blame is mine to carry. Mine for being to stupid to stop him. Mine for believing I could change."

After a pause and without looking at the king, she strode around the king to grab her clothes.

"Thank you for trying to save me."

"Who is Kuya?"

Amon disappeared. She began one with the stonework and let it travel through her body, transforming her into that cool stillness. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs filled with ash instead of air. Blue eyes tracked to the king as if she expected him to strike at her. He leaned against the counter beside her, head tipped to the side as he took in her reaction.

She knew what she was about to do to herself. It was a choice she was making. One she would stand by.

"I don't know who you're talking about." She spoke carefully.

"Is that so?"

Her teeth began to grind in anticipation of what was about to happen. The collar vibrated in warning, her intent already set. It knew she was about to breach another command. It knew to warm up for what came next.

"I've heard that name before in my life."

Like a bag of rocks Amon sunk to the floor, doing her best not to writhe. The king walked to her, she saw the toes of his damp shoes, and she almost hated. At least she wanted to, she really did. Conditioning told her he was here to gloat, that he was here to stroke her hair in saccharine comfort while explaining how if she'd just be honest, be a good girl, the pain would go away.

Greyfield hated liars. He wanted his slaves to be the epitome of honest. Unless they were lying for him. Though, that didn't necessarily stave off punishment.

Amon convulsed, bile rising in her throat where she trapped the truth. The pain earned a strangled cry from her burning throat. The king knelt beside her. She heard him swear, felt his hands hovering over her.

"Amon, what is this?"

"Please don't." She cried, ragged, as he tried to touch her.

He stopped, retracting.

The shock faded, leaving her chocking on the acidic remnants of bile stuck in her throat and trying not to inhale the blood in her sinuses. For a long, terrible moment the room was quiet. Despite herself Amon had tears in her eyes.

"What was that? A fit?" Hiei kept his voice low, kept his hand away from Amon's shaking shoulders. She looked so small and worn through. His stomach dropped with sickening speed. What the hell was this emotion? Is this what being helpless felt like?

He hated it, no thanks.

"No sire, not a fit." Amon struggled to answer him her quiet voice hoarse, ravaged by her ordeal.

He watched as she continued to tremble, her fingers twitching randomly in the aftershocks of whatever the hell that had been. She made no effort to rise. Just as he was about to prod again she spoke.

"It's a punishment for lying. For thinking ill thoughts about my master." Amon explained, hushed, her face hidden under her hair and her hand. "I broke the rules. This what happens to demons who break the rules."

"I didn't order this." Hiei scooted to her, cautiously keeping his hands to himself. "Those aren't my rules."

"Greyfield's rules are ironclad."

He tasted acid.

"This collar was special made for me, did you know that? A prototype to keep this smart, ungrateful mouth of mine in check. I think after a while the back of his hand must've just hurt too much to keep using it to keep me in line. I've always been told I have a hard head." Amon shifted to close her eyes with her cheek pressed to the floor. Her hair moved and revealed her face, the pale hue of her skin.

"I don't understand why this happened. We've broken his rules before and you never went through this. Not that you told me." Hiei frowned. Had she been suffering needlessly through this, protecting him from it?

"Your orders supersede his tenants. Though, until you give me a contradictory command the collar will default to its original protocols."

"So tell me which rules to rescind." He demanded of her.

A wan laugh lived and died on Amon's blood-stained lips. Another puddle of red on the floor, under her cheek.

"I'm forbidden from asking for selfish tings, and what is more selfish than trying to escape my due punishment? If I didn't want this I shouldn't have had those thoughts. This is my fault."

"No." Hiei's voice was sharp, full of anger. "This is Greyfield's fault. I unforbid you then. From everything."

"It doesn't work that way."

"Fine. I command you to be selfish and to tell me what triggers that damn collar."

Amon exhaled slowly.

"I'll need time to remember all of it." She finally moved to rise to sitting. "I'm such an idiot for thinking I could be freed. Every aspect of my life will always be under Greyfield's control. I'm indentured to a ghost."

Hiei mulled that over a moment. His orders cut through Greyfield's? His eyes cut to Amon, the ragged and abused creature that she was. Then he shifted to watched her face.

"Amon, take your collar off."

Her chest stopped rising, her glassy eyes opening to slivers. For a moment he actually thought he'd killed her. Then she moved her gaze to him. He nodded for her to go on.

It was so simple. The fact it had slipped passed him so many times made him feel like a fool. He had the power here. Greyfield was dead, rotting somewhere with any luck. Decaying as they spoke. As Amon had said, he was a ghost. No mere spirit had more power than the king of Alaric.

"Sire, I…" Amon shook her head in small movements. "I can't. I know I can't. I've tried."

"Not for me you haven't." Hiei crawled to her. He raised his hands to caress his fingertips along the thin leather adorning her neck. "I'll do it for you, Amon, since you think you can't."

"There's nothing to do. It won't come off." She protested sitting up to allow him better access to her throat. Another ingrained reaction.

Hiei's breath warmed the cup of her ear as his fingertips found what he'd been searching for. The collar knew his intention even when he didn't speak. That must've pleased that bastard before he'd died. Greyfield's every whim could turn Amon into a tortured heap. How many times? How often had she been reduced to what she was now? He longed to find Greyfield's grave just so he could spit on it.

"A slave where's a collar, Amon. I don't know how many times I have to say this: We don't have slaves in Alaric. Only free demons." Hiei kept his voice low as he worked the clasp that had formed when he'd willed it to. The collar fell away from Amon's throat and into her shaking cupped hands. "So I guess that means you must be a free demon."


	12. Myrmidon

" _A slave where's a collar, Amon. I don't know how many times I have to say this: We don't have slaves in Alaric. Only free demons." Hiei kept his voice low as he worked the clasp that had formed when he'd willed it to. The collar fell away from Amon's throat and into her shaking cupped hands. "So I guess that means you must be a free demon."_

Amon wasn't sure exactly what she was hearing or feeling or experiencing. Maybe she hadn't woken up from the last set of shocks. Perhaps she had died and this was her brain's way of bidding her farewell, a far-fetched dream playing at reality.

"Whatever you do next will be your choice, Amon. You're the master of your own fate." The king rocked back from his knees to his heels then up to his full height.

Amon watched him with eyes full of something she hadn't thought she'd ever feel again. He was graceful, even dripping water on the floor. Simply standing was an act of art. Her chest shuddered. Long fingers rolled closed around the collar, clutching it close to her until her nails starting to cut through the leather. The king shoved his fingers through his bangs then the rest of his hair, turning to examine himself in the mirror. Unlike her, he had no visible reminders of their session. Through the mirror, garnet eyes spied her staring and she didn't bother looking away. He shifted his attention to the bathroom door and his bedroom beyond. As he walked his fingers worked the white belts around his waist, not seeming to care that his pants were already slipping off his hips before he even reached the privacy of his room.

"Let me know what you decide." He called evenly, and she wondered how he was so composed.

Her entire body was shaking and she couldn't tell which emotion exactly, was causing the disturbance. Was it the sickening elation slipping through her? Freedom. The very notion of it felt so heavy and so light, fixing her to the floor while her head to grew dizzy as though she was standing on the peak of a mountain in the clouds. Her eyes slid to the door at the sound of the one leading to the hall closing. Only once she knew the king was gone did she allow herself to examine the collar.

Like this, held in her hands, it felt so small. A parasite she could crush under her heels. This was it. Greyfield's last stand, his last wavering tendril of power over her.

She never had to serve another being again. She never had to bow her head or cut her hair or sleep on the floor. She could leave this place. She could try to go home and finally offer penance for her crimes, as awful as they were. She could satisfy herself. Maybe she could even run through a forest again.

Her body remembered dozing in sunbeams, holding hands with her sister.

She could be anything she wanted.

The leather creaked as she gripped it, finding her feet. The face in the mirror looked different than it had before. She no longer had bruises. The wet on her lips slid off freely when she used the back of her arm. Blood dripped from her nose. Her eyes were sharp, dark, and full of fire.

She could go anywhere.

Her bare toes wiggled against the cool floor. She still wore the training clothes the king had given to her. They were a little too short for her legs, the top a little tight around her chest. But they were stained with her blood and the grit she'd earned in the caverns. Most importantly, they felt like a memory.

There was nothing stopping her now.

She grinned and her reflection flashed its teeth.

A world of endless possibilities awaited. Grabbing her clothes from the counter she started walking away from the king's bath, and out of his room, ideas buzzing in her brain without consequence.

* * *

Hiei drummed his fingers on the surface of the table, disinterested in the conversation around him or the food in front of him. His mind was back in the bathroom. Amon, barefoot, dirty and shaking, her eyes glowing as they watched him from where she hunkered down on the floor, that wretched collar caught in her hands.

He'd given her freedom.

It was the right thing to do. It shouldn't have taken him so long to get around to figuring it out. Maybe he hadn't really wanted to know, because now that she was free, she had no reason to join him here today. Tied to him, he could count on her to follow at his heels.

He wouldn't be surprised if she was halfway out of the city by now. If it were him, he'd have fled. Of course, if it were him he'd have killed those who had taken advantage of his enslaved state. He knew she was gone. Amon was never late for anything, as far as he'd seen, but she hadn't shown up for his first meeting. All Alaric had now was him, and all he had were these stupid lunch appointments he had no interest taking part in. The conversations stopped and Hiei frowned, thinking he had missed some pointed comment once again, so he raised his attention to try to pick out who was expecting a response from him now.

Instead he saw that all eyes were on Amon as she strode over to him, head high and shoulders down. She carried herself with more elegance and purpose than he'd ever seen in her before. Today she wore a white shirt with a black vest that was decorated with deep shiny red embroidery. Were those dragons? He followed her with great interest as she came to his side, tray balanced on her gloved fingers. She pushed his plate away from him and placed a fresh order of food down. The entire room remained silent.

"It seems the kitchen staff has given up on following my directives, sire. Apologies. I had them make something you'd actually enjoy eating." She plucked the other plate from the tabletop and motioned for one of the servers to take it from her. In a low voice she told him, "Tell them I'll be down to speak with them about this mixup later."

"You need to get a handle on her, Hiei. She can't just barge in here-" Takeo stopped complaining as Hiei and Amon both looked at him.

"Amon is allowed to go wherever I go. That's her entire job." Hiei warned him. "She's my personal attendant."

Amon didn't bother hiding her prideful smirk. "All the same, I'll do my best to avoid being tardy next time. Please, continue your meeting. I'm sure you have plenty of updates for the king in regards to the pop-up rebellions in the west, General Takeo."

Takeo's eyes narrowed on her and Amon merely dipped her head toward him, not breaking eye contact. Hiei shifted in his seat with interest.

"What rebellions?" Hiei asked, looking from Amon to the general. "How long has this been going on?"

"You've been distracted so I haven't thought to bother you with the details. We have it under control." Takeo glared harshly then, Amon the recipient of his ire. "You don't like dealing with the minor things, Hiei."

"Sir."

Hiei twisted to look at Amon on his right side. She wasn't looking at him though. Her eyes were glued to Takeo's.

Hiei got the impression there was a pissing-contest happening in front of him, yet still somehow out of sight.

"You're addressing a king, General Takeo. Show some respect." Amon chastised. Her eyes grazed over all the members of the cabinets. "In fact, all of you could use a lesson or two in courtesy."

The energy in the room shifted. Tension roiled through the demons under the pressure of her attention.

"M'lord, how did these men refer to your predecessor?" Amon asked curiously.

"Lord Mukuro." Hiei shrugged.

"Is that the title you'd like to accept?" Amon pressed.

"This is insane. I'm not going to sit here and be spoken down to by a common house slav-" Takeo got to his feet. Amon cut him off.

"I'm not a slave." She informed him, causing him to grow still. With purpose she tilted her head to the side so they could all see the absence of her collar. His eyes grew wide. "We don't have slaves in Alaric, General. Or didn't you realize that, _sir_?"

Her charged tone earned Hiei's interest. The way she was intentionally targeting Takeo meant something. It clicked in Hiei's head then. Amon and Takeo knew each other.

And the only people Amon knew were the ones she had met through Greyfield.

"Lord Hiei works just fine, Amon." Hiei too, leveled Takeo with a gaze, though his was more curious than anything else. Quickly it faded into hard expectation. "Sit down General. We aren't done discussing these uprisings."

Takeo was caught, stuck between disobeying the king and throwing his tantrum. Amon smiled, a small expression that barely touched her mouth but her satisfaction shone in her eyes. The general seethed, then slowly lowered himself into his chair. The rest of the cabinet kept shifting, glancing at Takeo then one another. Amon watched them all, her attention hovering over a select few who would share her gaze for a moment before darting their attention to Hiei. It didn't escape his notice.

How many demons in this room did Amon know? How many had she been at the mercy of? Why were they intertwined with Greyfield?

"Hiei-"

Amon cleared her throat. The demon moving to speak stopped, looked at her, then pulled a face.

"Lord Hiei, don't assume we've been intentionally keeping this information from you. You've just shown time and again how little you care about these incidences."

"So you've mentioned them to me before." Hiei stated.

"Well, no, but the precedent-"

"I want detailed reports on all the uprisings that have been happening throughout the territory. Include in those reports how they were handled, who started them, and an estimation of how many rebels might still be lurking in Alaric. I'm not losing this kingdom to upstarts." Hiei leaned back in his chair, eyes radiating intention.

"Do you want the reports or should we just hand them right to that dog of yours?" Takeo asked him bitterly.

"Watch your tongue, Takeo."

"You have never cared about running Alaric before. Not until that thing started hovering around you." Takeo continued. "And now you've set it free and look what it's done. Started to sow the seeds of discontent amongst your most trusted advisers."

"And how exactly, is Amon sowing discontent? By pointing out you don't address me with respect? Or by bringing to my attention that you haven't been forthcoming with information that could dethrone me and lead to a civil war?" Hiei leaned over the table.

"The general is correct, sire. I did barge in here late and start chiding them." Amon allowed. "I suppose the anger in the room is mine to shoulder."

Hiei raised an eyebrow, regarding her. "That so?"

"Indeed. Perhaps the general would like to have a private word with me after this meeting so we can come to an understanding."

The amused tickle in Hiei's stomach at the savagery in Amon's tone and expression made him nod in acceptance. He refused to show it on his face. This moment called for a serious king who was willing to do what it took, not a man humored that a haughty personal servant was about to lay into a seasoned general. There had been no room for denial in Amon's voice, so Takeo begrudgingly agreed.

"I should have brought you along before now." Hiei made sure she was the only one who could hear him. "You have them shaking in their boots."

Through the rest of the meeting, no one misstepped while speaking to Hiei. They all addressed him as M'lord, Lord or Sir. It was surreal. In a hushed conversation at the end of the meeting where Hiei informed her where he'd be next, Amon lamented that it was a shame it had taken _her_ standing up for him to make this shift happen. He rolled his eyes and then caught sight of Takeo waiting.

"Don't play dead this time." Hiei warned her.

"It won't come to that. We're just going to talk." Amon assured him.

Hiei didn't quite believe that, but he nodded and stepped away to move on with his day.

Amon waited for the door to close behind the king, then another moment to be sure no one was lurking in the hall. "You're lucky I didn't tell him what you've done."

Takeo stalked to her to hover menacingly over her.

"Oh? Am I lucky? Greyfield made it clear that collar would never come off. How did you do it?" He demanded. "And how do I put it back on you so you can go back to being the worthless, insolent creature that you really are?"

"Greyfield is dead. This isn't his world anymore." Amon told him simply. "Now, it belongs to the king. If I were you, I'd drop all this subterfuge nonsense before it goes to far."

Amon lifted her hand and gently drug her nails down the skin of his neck.

"I sure would hate to see your head severed and stuck on a pike, Takeo."

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it with a snarl.

"What do you want?" He demanded. "Money? A promise of safety?"

"No. None of that. I just want to see our king succeed. And you'd be a wonderful pillar of support for him." Amon pulled her hand away from his easily without losing her friendly expression. "Surely, you want to see him succeed too? Otherwise what would you be doing in his cabinet?"

Takeo didn't answer her.

"I know that all of this is a big misunderstanding. You were just trying your best to do what you thought the king wished. I've been there Takeo, acting the way I thought would keep me in someone's best graces. This was a simple mistake." Amon lightened her tone as if she were genuinely helping. "From now on you'll make your reports and you'll use the respectful titles, because now you understand the expectations set for you."

"Is that what I'm going to do?" He ground his teeth.

"I know you're a good general." Amon nodded. "With such strong hands and principles."

She pushed up her sleeve and studied her left arm then, tracing a few scars with gloved fingers. Takeo watched her with cold eyes. He knew those marks. He'd been the one to carve them into her skin.

"You're better than your past, Takeo. I believe that. You're the sort of man who wouldn't make the same mistakes twice." She leveled him with a look. "And I'm certain that we won't need to have this conversation again."

Amon started for the door, pausing just before opening it.

"See you at the next meeting, General."

She heard something break after she was securely in the hall. With a smile she pulled a small notebook from her coat's inner breast pocket and wrote a few notes about their conversations on the page after a long list of names. Meticulously she had gone through and discovered all the dangers in the castle, the demons who might post a threat to her king.

She was free to do what she pleased. Unfortunate for the people of Alaric that meant she could support her king with the full brunt of her own power. And she would.

Her devotion to him had been sealed the moment he'd freed her. Not just the act itself, but what followed. He hadn't freed her with the demand for her loyalty. He hadn't done it to endear her to him, or to trap her out of obligation. He'd taken off the collar because he wanted her to stop suffering. He wanted her like this, able to roam the halls and intimidate his generals and make her own choices. He wanted her to exist. When she'd come to join him in the meeting he'd been surprised, maybe a little confused.

He hadn't thought she'd stay.

But he'd removed the collar anyway.

That just solidified her decision. She would stand at her king's side and she would make sure he was safe. If he had no other allies in the castle, he had her. Whatever he faced going forward, he could face with her.

Wracked again by that unsettling shudder of warmth in her chest, Amon started down the hall to her next destination. Her sincere devotion to the king had shocked her. It had shown itself inside her as though it had just been waiting to remind her it existed. And it was absolute. Complete. Most importantly, it was her own. Not an emotion forced into her by a collar or a curse or obedience. No. This was born of true respect and admiration.

Things she hadn't felt for a king since her grandfather had ruled her homeland.

* * *

"Why did you stay?"

Hiei had been biting to ask the question since the meeting earlier in the day, and now he and Amon were finally alone after a long day of listening to idiots talk. Amon lifted her head from the notes she was writing about the last meeting they'd attended. Her head tipped to the side.

"The collar may be gone, but I'm still under your control." She responded. "It seems that curse isn't so easy to break."

Hiei's face darkened then. "I'll have to keep trying."

"I'm lying, sir." Amon smiled, shaking her head as she leaned back in her seat. Hiei glared at her. "I'm entirely free. I stayed because I wanted to stay."

"Why though? What could possibly be enjoyable about being a servant?"

"You."

Hiei felt heat creep into his cheeks and his ears. "That's ridiculous. Are you lying again?"

"I'm not. I stayed because I enjoy helping you." Amon told him with that growing damnable smile.

He scoured her face, looking for hints of deception. She stayed because of him? That's the opposite of what he'd have done.

"That makes no sense, Amon. I took too long to figure out how to free you. I didn't even know you were dying when you got here. I made you fight me even though you didn't want to." Hiei turned to face her fully where he sat on the windowsill in his office. "Why the hell would you want to continue serve someone like me? You've heard what the others have said about me."

"If you want me to leave, just say so sir. You don't have to continue with all this posturing." Amon flattened her expression. "You do have the authority to just fire me."

"I don't want to fire you." Hiei snapped at her.

"Then why are you upset I'm still here? Do you want me to quit?" She demanded.

"No."

"Do you want me to just disappear? I can go." She rose from her seat, her face a mask he couldn't see through.

"Sit down Amon." Hiei growled. "I don't want you to leave."

His eyes widened as he realized it was the truth. He didn't want her to go. He'd expected her to and it had unsettled him. Most of him still didn't, couldn't, understand why she'd want to stay. For him? Who was he that he'd be worth her spoiling her freedom serving him? All the same, Amon reclaimed her seat and looked him over. Her eyes seemed more cunning now, her attention sharper than it had been when he'd delved through her memories.

What was it like in her mind right this moment?

"Make no mistake, sire, I'm here because it is where I want to be. Beside _you_. Supporting _you_. I'm beginning to suspect the issue with your people not respecting you has less to do with them and more to do with you." She told him firmly. "You don't think you can do this job, do you?"

Hiei stared at her. Then he hopped off the windowsill and stalked to his desk. When his hands hit the surface, she didn't flinch. He leered over the space at her, a half-snarl deforming his mouth.

"What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I said you don't think you can do this job and that's why your people don't respect you. They can tell you lack confidence in yourself, so in turn, they lack confidence in you." Amon remained calm in her delivery.

"I have survived life on my own since I was a child. I survived having the Jagan implanted and losing all my power only to regain it in record time. I won The Dark Tournament. I tamed one of the most ancient and dangerous beasts from the pits of Spirit World and consumed it, making it a part of me. I have fought in every king's tournament since its induction. And you think I'm not confident in myself?" Hiei menaced, seething. "How _dare_ you."

"You have this habit of using intimidation to cover your insecurities, are you aware?" Amon held his gaze, nonplussed. "I'm not doubting your strength, sire. In fact I don't doubt you at all. But your past accomplishments don't mean anything right now. This isn't about how strong you are, or how many beasts you've consumed. This is about whether or not you think you have what it takes to be a good king."

She wasn't backing off of this subject, Hiei realized. She didn't care he was billowing his energy to wash over her. Amon merely sat in her chair, blue eyes boring in his own, and waited. His fingers curled against the grain of the desk's surface. How long had she been dying to say these things to him?

"You can be, you know." She told him firmly when he didn't speak.

"I can be what? Intimidating?" He demanded, snarling.

"A good king."

He pulled back and stood up straight, regarding her. Again, he found no sign she was attempting to lie to him.

"Don't feed my ego, Amon." He finally let his glare fall into a lesser, but still unhappy, expression.

"From the sounds of it, your ego is full enough." She retorted easily.

"Then why did you say that?"

"Because I believe it."

Hiei inhaled and exhaled slowly, not sure what to do with this conversation. "And this is why you stayed? Because you think I can be a good king?"

"More or less." She nodded. "Truthfully, I'd probably have stayed whether or not you were king."

If he hadn't known to what to do with her talk before, he was truly at a loss now. She'd have stayed even if he wasn't king? Why? What had he done to trick this woman into thinking he was worth sticking around for?

"But my opinions don't matter on this." Amon told him.

Hiei wanted to tell her she was wrong. Her opinion might the only one he cared about hearing on this subject in this moment. He didn't speak. Amon rose from her chair, gathered her notes and held them to her chest while looking down into his eyes.

"You have to be the one to decide what kind of king you want to be remembered as, sire. All my faith in you can't change how you see yourself." She started for the door.

"What is a good king to you, Amon?" Hiei asked her quietly, watching her retreat.

She stopped after opening it, turning back to him. "The important question here, sir, is what is a good king to _you?_ _"_

* * *

Hiei lie in bed that night thinking about his conversation with Amon. About how easily she corrected the entirety of his cabinet on his behalf. He'd been amused with her authoritative tone at the time. Now he wondered.

How had she done that?

Amon had told him she'd served kings before, hadn't she? Which ones? In what capacity? How did she pull that compliance from his advisers without making a single threat? All he knew was intimidation when it came to making people do what he wanted. She'd even done it to him. She had never once yelled to make her point that evening. She hadn't cursed or demeaned him to get through to him. Instead she had identified his insecurity, addressed it and gave him room to figure out how to fix it.

She said she believed he could be a good king.

She also said she'd follow him even if he wasn't a king at all.

That sort of strange, blind faith in him made him nervous. It was unsettling. He didn't understand it.

Then his thoughts turned to Yusuke.

Okay, maybe he understood _a little_. Yusuke had so easily and seamlessly earned his trust and respect. Hiei had been willing to die avenging him. He'd been lost once they'd all separated. Mukuro had taken that spot in his life once she'd earned his trust too. It wasn't the same, necessarily, but it was similar. Different types of devotion.

And both Yusuke and Mukuro had died on him. Yusuke had come back, at least. He still existed somewhere. Mukuro was just gone, as if she had never existed in the first place. This is what happened when he put all his devotion into someone.

They left.

They died.

And then he was alone again.

While Yusuke still lived, he was gone too. Hiei had done what he does best and pushed him away.

His thoughts turned to the letter. He left his bed to pace his room, a caged animal. That was something else he didn't understand at all. Why would Yusuke and the others care about coming to see him after he'd been so cruel to them? After he had specifically told them he never wanted them around again? The only thing Hiei could imagine driving them was pity. Pity for the lonely demon who had lost his tether to this world. Pity for the king who didn't know what he was doing. Pity for the member of the group who had always been sure to keep the others at arms length.

Hiei didn't want their pity. He didn't want them to come. He didn't need them here. He had Amon. Amon and her strange devotion to him. Amon who told him she would follow him, that she stayed for him, that she wanted to see him succeed.

Did Amon feel the same way about him that he'd once felt for Yusuke? Would she attempt to take on insurmountable odds for him? If so, why? Why? Why? Why? He couldn't imagine what he had done to earn such respect and care from her. She'd come to him a slave. She'd served him as one. He'd repeatedly told her he didn't have time to coddle her. He'd made it clear he wasn't the gentle caring type. What had it been? Yusuke's charm was in his stupid, aggressive friendliness. His welcoming spirit and his strength. His stupid blind trust. He devoted himself to his friends, even those he hardly knew.

Hiei just didn't have that magnetism.

 _What is a good king to you?_

Hiei pondered the question, trying to understand it so he could answer. Mukuro had been a good king. She had ruled with absolute power. Her people respected and feared her. She'd had decent relations with the rest of Makai, or at the very least most the world was too terrified of her to cause problems. If that's who he wanted to be, he was on the right track. If nothing else, Hiei had the fear part down. His path was always clear because no one dared to get in his way.

But is that what he wanted?

Was that why his people wanted him gone?

He sighed, growing more and more frustrated with each thought. How did he want to be remembered? That's something Amon had asked him.

Hiei guessed, at the root of it, he wanted to be remembered as functional. Capable. When problems arose, he wanted his territory to know he would handle them.

But would that make him a good king?

Could a bad man be a good king?

He let his shoulders sag, his face turning up toward the ceiling. Who knew? Who knew what would make a good king and what wouldn't? There was no way the answer was a fixed one. What would work for one land definitely wouldn't work for another. Maybe Amon's definition of good and his just weren't the same. He wasn't the sort of man who people would speak to about their issues or desires. He wasn't going to smile when he greeted his people. He wasn't going to charm anyone and earn their trust by offering his first.

He wasn't Yusuke.

And he wasn't Mukuro.

So what did that make him?


	13. Ubuntu

Amon walked through the hall with purpose. Her silent footfalls did not prevent anyone from noticing her presence, long red hair pulled in a braid down the back of her head and tied off at the top of her neck, the rest of the fiery strands flowing freely like a thick red river over the black of her jacket. One of her boots had had a squeaky heel and she'd taken it back immediately to be repaired to her standards by the cobbler. There were some beings in the castle she did not want knowing when she was around. But today, today she wanted the whole damn city to feel her coming.

It had been two weeks since she'd been freed and every day had come with another new obstacle that shoved itself into the king's pathway to success.

The plate cracked when she tossed it onto the counter, bringing the kitchen to a deafening halt. A vacuum formed around the broken plate and the food on it. All the energy in the room was swallowed by that innocuous object and the gravity it suddenly carried.

"Is there something wrong with the food, Amon?" Marielle asked meekly, the first to dare to break the silence. Marielle was always the ice breaker, the charge-runner.

"Who made it?" Amon demanded, cold gaze sweeping around the faces in the room. No one jumped to answer her. She waited then nodded. In a voice that warned of things to come she spoke again. "Fine. I understand the desire to protect each other. I can't fault your loyalty, only where it lies."

She gestured to the food.

"I don't understand, that's exactly what you asked us to make." Marielle frowned, wringing her hands. "Why are you so angry?"

"I definitely did not ask for someone to slip poison into this meal." Amon barely looked at Marielle.

Again silence became the largest being in the room, daunting and consuming all else. Amon allowed it, in fact she commanded it. She wanted them to suffer that unbearable silence. She wanted everyone in that room to understand where they stood.

Against her.

Against the king.

Against _her_ king.

"Surely you're mistaken. Why would anyone poison the food?" Marielle walked over and gently placed a hand on Amon's arm as if to quell the red head. "Think about the accusations you're making, Amon. These are good people."

"Would you like to sample it?" Amon looked down at the woman with one eye, her tone a cold breeze.

Marielle looked at the food then back to the demoness she held. "You're serious."

"I generally am."

Marielle swallowed and stepped away. "Amon-"

"If this happens again I will make every single person who came in contact with the plate eat from it." Amon warned the room at large. "Don't tempt the fates. She's right, you're good people. Don't fall prey to someone else's toxic ideology."

With that parting barb, Amon spun on heel and strode from the room. She didn't make it far before Marielle ran out after her, her small feet beating against the stone floor. Amon stopped and allowed the other woman to catch her.

"Amon, you know these people. You can't truly believe these insidious accusations. You've worked alongside them. Do they seem like killers to you?" Marielle panted softly, out of breath. She managed to keep her earnest voice quiet.

"I have known enough killers to know you cannot always pick them out from a crowd." Amon countered brusquely. "I'm not blind, Marielle."

Marielle straightened at that. "And that means?"

"It means what it means." Amon explained without adding anything to it.

"You've changed."

Amon stared at the brunette with her rosy cheeks and her apron smeared with flour hand prints. It was hard to believe that this soft being could be involved in a plot to kill the king, that was true. It was harder to prove. Maybe Amon was being paranoid, as she'd oft been accused of as of late. Her gut grew hard, resolute. No. She could smell a deception and she could see the tangled strings comprising this web of plots.

"Have I?" She responded softly, allowing herself to grow gentle.

Greyfield had trained her to deceive, to lull unwitting enemies into false security, to undermine others in the hunt for victory. She had hated heeding his commands to kill. She had hated serving tea to a man in the morning and serving him a quick death for lunch. Those abhorrent skills were now vital, without them she would have laid unwitting in Marielle's bed, wrapping her fingers in silky brown hair, staring warmly into large ocher eyes. Part of her wished she could still be that version of herself, unsuspecting and yielding.

But she was not a whispering brook to be tread through leisurely. She was a thunderous river, daring the unwitting traveler to step upon her banks unprepared. There was nothing yielding left in her.

"Yes. You're hard now. You're cold." Marielle swallowed, ever the small harmless creature skittering around the dangerous topics. "The king has changed you."

"Mmm." Amon shifted her eyes away then, thoughtful. "It is true, I suppose, that the king has facilitated a change in me."

Marielle let go of the tension in her body. Then, immediately, it flooded back as Amon's attention once again pierced her. Her hand went to wringing one another in that nervous habit of hers.

"Perhaps, though, that is not such a bad thing. I think one is bound to change once they drink from the fountain of freedom. Maybe what you sense isn't even a change but a reawakening. I have so long been forced to wear the guise of a stranger that even I can no longer tell if this is me, as I am, walking these halls or perhaps someone new who has risen from the ashes of the me who died when that collar was clipped around my throat. I'm not unhappy, whatever the case may be."

"You're throwing your weight around, Amon. It's like the moment you were solidified as the king's attendant you absorbed his arrogance and his malice. You would have never stomped into the kitchen like this before. You were kind." Marielle argued, heat rising in her cheeks. "If you are happy being this way, then I'm sorry for you."

She turned and went back into the kitchen not bothering to spare another behind her. Amon stayed in place for a few seconds, frowning, before turning to move on through her day.

* * *

"Amon? You didn't hear a single word I just said, did you?"

Amon shook herself out of her thoughts, "Yes, I agree. You should preemptively ask for reports from the other generals."

Hiei stared at her, dull expression in place, his pacing stopped. Amon remained in her seat, spilled over a small collection of handwritten notes on his desk, her hand poised to write but idle. In fact, she'd been a statue for most of the time she'd been there, her eyes distant and unfocused. She'd still managed to offer empty responses to his questions. Now that he'd roused her from her distraction, he walked over to the desk and leaned against it near her.

"Great answer." He informed her. "For the question I asked you fifteen minutes ago."

"Apologies, sire. It seems I'm a bit in my head at the moment." She admitted, sighing as she set her pen down. "Could you repeat what you were saying?"

"This isn't like you." He frowned.

"I'm hearing that a lot lately." Amon muttered. Then she pulled back from the papers she had begun to stack and organize. Toying with the curled corner of one sheet, she hesitated then soldiered through her question. "Sire, do you think in these recent weeks I've changed too much for the worse?"

Hiei tipped his head to the side, examining her. "I'm not a good judge of such things, Amon. The line between better and worse has never been clear cut to me."

Her expression grew troubled, but then she sunk down into her chair, legs sliding forward and feet moving apart. Her hand came up to her face, eyes closing, as she exhaled sharply but she said nothing in response to him. After a moment those cobalt eyes opened, he could just see them through her fingers. Suddenly her hand fell and she stood up, a look of revelation replacing her previously forlorn expression.

"That's it." She told him.

Hiei regarded her, hiding his confusion. At least she didn't seem so lost now. "That's it?"

"Oh, sorry sire, not you. I just was hit with an idea that could resolve multiple issues at once." Amon explained.

"You _are_ in your head today, aren't you?" He questioned dryly. "I feel like I'm talking no one when I'm speaking to you."

"Something was brought to my attention earlier and I've been dwelling on it all day." She admitted. "I'm sorry that it has caused such an issue for you. I missed most of our conversation which was incredibly rude of me."

Hiei rolled his eyes. "It's hard to yell at you when you chide yourself, Amon. Leave something for me to say."

Her smile was small but warm as she nodded.

"Don't look so happy, you haven't heard how you're to make this slight up to me." Hiei warned her, his grin dark and humored as her smile slipped away. "Be down in the caverns in ten minutes, Amon. And come ready to fight."

Amon puffed out a huff of air but she didn't argue. Hiei had taught her it was fruitless. He would get her into those caverns one way or the other so now she just rolled with his demands. They were slowly developing a schedule and as they continued to train together, he was able to track Amon's progress. The woman had a deft way about her and she absorbed his criticism with a deep understanding even though she fussed about it sometimes. His corrections never fell on deaf ears and if she didn't want to do a particular move his way then she'd explain herself to him and he'd help her hone her own style.

Amon's style, he had noticed, had two opposing themes. Beautiful grace in which she moved in spirals, swiftly and smoothly, as though she were dancing. This was the style she used most frequently, the one that seemed to be her first nature yet still resisted her attempts to completely perfect it. Contrary to her first style there was her second, her purposeful brutality. This was never her first choice. It was something he had to bait and draw out of her, pushing her into corners and pinning her to the ground to even get her close to unleashing it. In those moments she was merciless and sharp, cold; a bladed weapon in the hands of a remorseless assassin. It confused him that she would lean so heavily on defense and graceful techniques when he could tell that she had absolutely perfected being a weapon unto herself. When Amon's eyes went dark, when her gloves came off and her chin tipped upwards slightly, she became someone entirely different, someone who would win at all costs. In those moments it always seemed to him that she was holding something back.

It hadn't taken many sessions for Hiei to realize that something was her trained instinct to kill him.

Having those two styles did allow her to shift easily from one to the other, though. It gave her an advantage he was trying to intensify. In Hiei's ideal version of Amon's fighting style she would be able to shift seamlessly between her two selves allowing her to confuse her enemies and making it far more difficult to truly pin down what her next move might be. So he ran her ragged whenever the chance arose. Every time they trained together he had to haul her up through the halls by the end of it because she would expend every single ounce of energy she had to her name trying to best him. The first few times she'd awoken in his room she'd been startled and apologetic. Now she seemed to expect it. Still, she always asked before she used his bath and she always made sure his linens were washed after she slept on them.

Amon was one of the most peculiar creatures he had ever met, let alone adopted into his circle of trust.

"As you wish, sire." Amon bobbed her head in two quick nods then gathered her papers. She paused after standing, glancing over him. Then she looked away, scrunching her face before smoothing it out and leaving the room.

* * *

Once in her room, Amon carefully set her notes on the floor beside her mattress near a similar collection of stacks she'd accumulated over the last few weeks. Being the king's personal attendant had proven to be more paperwork intensive than she'd initially expected. She wouldn't complain though. Her position afforded her a remarkably privileged place in the castle. Few doors were close to her as long as she was operating on the king's behalf and by now the entire city knew that she _always_ conducted duties for their sovereign.

Even now, she stripped out of her clothes and pulled on her training attire mostly for his benefit. While she learned a lot from their sessions together she knew that given the choice she wouldn't push for them. Not as she was. The king hardly ever had to step out of his comfort zone when they sparred. Simply put, she wasn't a strong enough challenge. Amon couldn't understand why he would continue to waste his time, but she didn't fight it. During their sparring sessions the king actually seemed happy. Not even she was so selfish that she would tamper with that.

So she pulled on her pants, tying the black fabric around her waist, and she tugged on her long sleeve shirt tucking the material in before she finally stepped into her soft soled slippers. She kept the materials lightweight, roomy enough to maneuver but not so much so she would get tangled in her own clothing. There was nothing worse than attempting to land an attack and thwarting yourself in the process via your showboating wardrobe. As she reentered the hall she turned and did something she hadn't thought to do for the vast majority of her life: she locked her door behind her.

It was an unnatural habit. Long before Greyfield, when she was a little thing living in her homeland there was never a need for such acts of vigilance. No one would have dared to rob her. Even on the run, she'd kept her entire life in a single rucksack always on her person. No need for keys there. Then came Greyfield and even if she had asked for locks for her possessions he would never have granted her one. Yet here, in this place that had begun to feel like another home, she locked her room. It wasn't even that she had anything she wanted to protect for herself, really, but it was all about the notes. She recorded in meticulous detail the events of all the meetings she attended with the king, including direct quotes and actions. That information in the wrong hands could prove disastrous.

Thus the newly installed lock and the shiny key she kept on her person at all times.

Plus, it felt sort of nice to be able to lock her own door. Strange. But nice. Affording herself considerable privacy had never been her strong suit, but in moments like this she enjoyed the novelty of it.

As she began walking toward the caverns she worked out her plan. She would need some more information before she could solidify anything, but the preliminaries were simply enough. Marielle could be credited with this, her and her comment about Amon having once been kind. The king, like Amon, suffered from impostor syndrome. So why not just do the things that would present them as the types of demons they were pretending to be? If the kingdom wanted kindness, then why not give it to them? Convincing the king would take a little work, but she was certain she could handle that part so long as she had all her other ducks in their pretty little rows.

The king was already waiting for her, arms crossed as usual. He always stood like this, closed off and disinterested in the world around him. She didn't buy into it for a moment. Those crimson eyes might be shuttered but he was still absorbing every detail of his environment. He proved her theory when he slowly opened his lids to watch her approach despite her barely making a sound.

"I thought I was going to need to go get you." He drawled, unamused.

"I believe I'm actually still early, sir. By at least a minute." She pointed out to him, reflecting his expression with her own. "I'd like to make a request of you, and I'd like for you to hear me out. I know that this will be above my pay grade but I have good reason for asking. I'd like to read over the reports Takeo and the other generals handed to you last week."

"If you know it's above your pay grade why ask?" Hiei questioned despite not particularly objecting to the inquiry. What would Amon do with a couple of dryly written reports? Did she need help sleeping at night? He only read through them because the content directly impacted Alaric.

In short, he would have given them to her if she'd asked him at any other moment. As it was they were getting ready to train. So instead of blindly agreeing he soaked up her fleeting annoyance and offered his version of a compromise.

"If you can keep me down for ten seconds, I'll consider it."

Now she looked outright frustrated with him. Amon had little confidence in herself when it came to fighting him, which built a huge wall between her and actually succeeding in combat. She had skills and he was certain if she applied them liberally she could best him. Getting _her_ to believe that remained a staunch challenge in and of itself.

"Fine." She agreed tersely.

Hiei kept his delight inward, where it belonged, and refused to show it on his face. Amon rarely rose to his bait. How exciting that she found this to be motivation enough to at least _try_. He scrutinized her and her fighting attire, as he did every time they came down here. Her pants formed tightly around her ankles and were similar to his own, if not better made. They allowed her all the freedom of movement she needed to kick out, which from ample experience he knew was one of her stronger attacks. That shirt though. No matter how many times he tried to destroy her long sleeve shirts they always came back from the dead. Or she simply owned a plethora of them. He'd scrape the end of the pile eventually, if he kept trying. The fact she continued to hide behind those long sleeves bothered him.

And the gloves.

Always the gloves.

Ever since their first fight, Hiei's favorite part of every session with Amon was the moment she pulled her gloves off. It marked a change in her approach, showed him she was finally getting serious. Washing the dirt from the lines she carved into his skin had started to become his favorite after session ritual. Amon didn't seem to share his enthusiasm for those moments, but that was her hangup.

Amon breezed past him, coming to a stop a few meters away. When she turned to face him, it was with those cold blue eyes he favored. He loved that ready to kill gaze, the tension in her limbs even as she stood loose with her feet spread.

He didn't know who Amon had once been, but he knew that given enough time he could mold her into something the world would fear.

He blurred into action, crossing the distance between them. Hiei threw himself into the arm and flipped himself as Amon's arms came up in a cross block above her head, stopping his leg as it slammed down from above. Without offering him a chance to recover she reversed her block into a hold, grabbing his ankle and using his stalled momentum to throw him to the side. When Hiei landed on his hands, quickly regaining his feet she flew at him. Her leg swept low, attempting to take him off his feet once more. Hiei scoffed only to find her feel buried in his stomach immediately after.

Amon's legs were the deadliest part of her body. He did not want to find himself trapped between her thighs again. Last time she had nearly crushed his ribcage. That in mind, he stepped back, accepting the defensive for the time being. The woman was a beast, strong and dangerous, but she had too many hard limits.

Hiei's only two limits revolved around not killing her and not injuring so badly she wouldn't be able to fight again, and he made those lines clear every time they entered the caverns. This time he made his point by slamming a fist into the side of her face. He'd learned what she could and couldn't handle when it came to punishment and he loved to toe that line, dancing on it and begging her to stop him, to push him back.

Amon stood stunned for just a second, absorbing the fact he'd struck her in the face.

Amon hated being hit in the face. She loathed it. It sent her into a near homicidal fury every time.

Which, of course, is why her face was Hiei's favorite target.

She stepped back from him and he saw the plans rise and fall behind her eyes. A million ideas, a million paths, all outlined and disregarded in no time at all. When she slid-stepped to the side he shifted the opposite direction ready to block or attack. Her lips quirked upwards at the corners, the slightest bit of a satisfied smile showing, then she was gone. Hiei felt the air to his left move and he knew she would attack from the right. She loved to feign.

Instead he found a forearm pressing into his Adam's apple as Amon wrapped her arm around his throat from behind, her breathe warm against his ear.

"I am not so predictable, sire." She whispered as he grabbed at her arm.

Hiei grunted slamming head back into her chin before planting his feet down and managing to throw her over his shoulder. He hadn't even felt her approach. His pulse beat wildly, surprise shivering its way through his blood and down his spine in that overly excited way it tended to come into being. Amon gracefully rolled as he threw her, spending next to no time on the ground as she quickly uncoiled to her feet. She'd been planning on him throwing her.

Sometimes, in Hiei's opinion, Amon was a little too smart for her own good.

As Amon faced him, she licked the blood from her split lip before using her thumb to wipe the trail falling down her chin away. With a shrug she came at him once again, spinning and throwing a punch that bruised his arm as he blocked her from hitting his ribs. Spinning in a tight, quarter-circle, she slammed her elbow into that sweet spot just below his sternum. As the air rushed out of his compacted diaphragm Hiei staggered back. When Amon made to take advantage of his temporary disablement, he allowed her to get as close as possible.

Her eyes widened as he caught her first fist, then the second, in each of his palms, his fingers curling over her knuckles with uncomfortably pressure and heat. Refusing to break eye contact, Hiei called his flames to his hands and watched as Amon panicked, attempting to get away from him and his fire as fast as possible.

He only allowed her to pull free once her gloves had been reduced to ash.

Fine. Maybe he had more than two hard limits. Amon feared his fire more than anything else he'd ever seen her react to, viscerally and blindly. He hated that. So, even though he used it frequently when they fought he made a point to be particularly careful with it.

Amon never seemed to notice that no matter the amount of contact, Hiei never actually allowed her to get burned.

She didn't recover quickly enough to stop him from taking her to the ground, his knee pressing harshly against her upper arm to pin her down, his left hand's hot fingers holding tightly to her throat. There would be no weaseling out of this. No smart moves to escape him. Once again her panic had lead to her defeat. Hiei tisked at her, his right hand hovering in her view still alive with green fire.

"Looks like I win. Again." Hiei told Amon smirking and doing his best to make it as infuriating as possible for her.

She did not give him the angry, frustrated reaction he'd been expecting. Instead her eyes turned dark and in a voice that lacked any reservation she told him, "What a bold and wildly misinformed assumption my king. I want that information and I fully intend to get it."

Hiei tipped his head to the side, surprised by her calm reaction, her self-assured attitude. He had her outmatched, pinned down. That corner-of-her-lip grin came back just as he heard the first rumble below them. His eyebrows came down as he waited, impatiently, for whatever was going to happen to happen. He felt it on his knees and toes first, the cold wetness of water pooling underneath his legs.

"Congratulations Amon, you've managed to accost me with the mild annoyance of walking around with wet shoes." Hiei told her clearly and thoroughly unimpressed.

"Oh no." Amon's eyes grew wide as another rumble shook the ground beneath them. She swore under her breath, deepening Hiei's attention on her as she turned her head to the side before looking up to him once more. "Sire, you need to go now."

"No chance. I'm not falling for some parlor trick. Admit defeat." Hiei told her firmly.

But he saw the true fear in her eyes. She meant her warning. That drew his gaze to her left hand, the one he hadn't pinned down. Her fingers were buried first knuckle deep into the ground, water pooling up through the holes she had dug. Then he noticed the thin web of cracks spreading from that concentrated spot under her hand. The lines cutting through the red dust covered rock floor of the cavern crossed and weaved underneath both of them, water steadily pooling up through the fissures. Their bodies were the epicenter for the impending disaster.

"I can't control it. I thought I could." Amon sounded strained, as though she were holding back a great weight. "Sire, please. Go. I'm losing my hold."

"What is this?" Hiei asked, unafraid. Her warnings meant little to him. He wasn't scared of a little water. More than anything he was curious about what was happening and what Amon had done to cause it.

Then Amon cried out, the ground collapsed from underneath them and the water shot upwards to drag them down into it's bitter cold depths. Hiei had enough time to think that Mukuro should have warned him the floor of the cavern was so unstable before a large chunk of rock slammed against his head and he plummeted into black.

* * *

Choking, Hiei rolled to his side so he could spit up the water burning his throat. His clothes were weighed down with it, clinging to his body as he moved. Coughing up the remnants of the liquid he found himself overlooking the source of his trouble. A wide pit of water now claimed a good portion of their previous training area, so clear that the depth was hard to determine from this angle.

"What the _fuck_?" He breathed, impressed and alarmed, still staring at the body of water.

Teeth chattering together turned him back to face Amon, who sat nearby shivering. Her clothes clung to her too, her hair sticking to her cheeks where it had come free from her braid. Her arms wrapped around her middle as thought it would help her warm herself.

She looked mighty pitiful, in Hiei's opinion.

"I thought I had more control. I attempted to do something I shouldn't have." Amon's teeth continued to chatter in her chill as she spoke. "I was only trying to call enough to get you off of me. I didn't intend to drown you."

Hiei swallowed, nodding. He fought the urge to clear his throat as he once again looked over the fresh hole in the ground. "You did this?"

"Unfortunately and unintentionally."

"I see." Hiei licked his lips. "And your element. Would it be water or earth?"

Amon hesitated to answer at first then gathered herself. "Once, it was water and air. I'm hopelessly and appallingly out of practice with both. Are you alright? You had a nasty cut on your head. I did my best-"

"I'm fine. Stop worrying. You did this." Hiei gestured to the pool of water once, this time less asking and more stating.

"You already asked me that, sire."

"Amon." Hiei stared at her. "How strong were you before Greyfield?"

This caused her to once again lapse into silence. After a few moments under his unrelenting gaze, she quietly said, "Strong. I think."

"You can have the reports. I'm fairly certain I was out for more than ten seconds." He told her, distracted by her answer.

"I appreciate it, thank you. Are you sure you're alright? The bleeding stopped and the cut is gone, but again, it's been so long since I've used my energy I'm worried I messed it up somehow."

"Yes." Hiei turned to examine her permanent defacement of the caverns. Water.

Figures.

"We're going to need to work on how you control your energy." He told her, still deep in his head. "I don't want you using it unless I'm around. The last thing I need is for you to collapse half the city into a sinkhole."

Amon's face turned red from embarrassment. "I understand."

Then, Hiei blinked reaching up to the line of his hair on his forehead. He turned to look at her with particular interest and curiosity once more. He'd been hit in the head. Hadn't Amon said he'd been bleeding? He could feel raised skin, like a scar, but not enough time had passed. She watched him with her shivering frame, her red eyebrows pulled down slightly.

"What did you say about my head?"

"I was trying to tell you I healed your wound but I'm afraid I might've done something wrong." She explained. "My power is fickle at the moment so it's entirely possible-"

"You healed me." Hiei repeated, deadpan. "You. You healed me."

"Yes. Perhaps we should get you to the medical bay, sire."

"Show me." He demanded.

"Show you what?"

"How you healed me."

"I can't. You don't have any-SIRE!" She shouted at him as he used his thumb nail to cut a line into his palm, reopening an old scar. "Please!"

"Heal me." He extended the hand to her and watched her panic. Then she gently took his hand into both her own and closed her eyes. Hiei watched her lips move, no words coming to his ears, as she pinched her brow. And then he felt it. The warmth of a foreign energy against his skin, crawling inside. The green energy flowed around his hand, under his skin and the wound began to knit closed. Within minutes it was gone, only a white line remaining in its wake.

"You can heal." Hiei remarked, pulling his hand away immediately to examine it himself. "Where did you learn that?"

"My grandmother."

He glanced at her. "So this was something you knew before Greyfield."

"Indeed, it was."

"Interesting." He stood up and wiped the blood away onto his wet pants. "You look ready to die of exposure. It's unbecoming of a demon, Amon. Work on that."

Her expression flattened. "Sure, sir, that'll climb to the top of my list."

"Good. I don't want you dying down here now that I know it would taint the water supply." Hiei smirked down at her, extending his hand. "In the meantime let's get you into a bath. You need to get warmed up."


	14. Novus Rex Nova Lex

**A/N: Just a heads up, I know that large tattoo pieces often take multiple sessions to complete but we are going to pretend the magic of demon world somehow makes this an easier process. We agreed? We agreed.**

 **Also, I** **'ve been waiting to use a scene where Amon uses Shadow Walk for a while. Honestly, I saw Gobta use it in That Time I Was Reincarnated as a Slime and I had to give her the ability in this story. Had to. My hand was forced. Couldn't be helped. Enjoy bros!**

* * *

Balancing a tray on her palm Amon paced down the hall toward the king's room, as it was that time of night when his demons lurked closest. He'd soon awaken, a little breathless and angry. She liked to be there beforehand so he could find her in the darkness and know she was there for him. With him.

Roughly a meter from the king's door, she paused. A footfall that landed just a second later than her own. Not quite silent enough to fool her. Sloppy work. With a heaving sigh of annoyance she spun around and landed her shin across the midsection of the would-be assassin following her, the tray tettering on her fingertips but not spilling down. A knife glinted in the light of the lanterns that lined the hall. Amon kept her complaints buried in her chest. She really did not want to raise a commotion. No need to wake the king with such trivial matters. Instead she held a palm out toward the darkness clad attacker, shaking her head silently as she crouched low to set the tray to the side. When she rose, the being's eyes, the only part of their face she could see, glanced from her to the tray.

Amon shook out her hands after stripping off her jacket, then undid the buttons on her cuffs, rolling the sleeves of her shirt up over her elbows in crisp movements. The glow of orange light danced over her scars, caught on her eyes and revealed a sheen to them that hadn't been there a moment before. She rushed forward forcing the assassin to scramble back on the defensive. Immediately she disarmed them, taking their knife as her own and slashing through the air around them as they dodged her attacks. Neither of their footfalls echoed now, the strikes to one another stifled. Neither of them allowed breath to rush from them in a groan or hiss.

Grabbing the shoulder of the demon, Amon rolled them over the floor. Her hand yanked on their hood, dragging them backwards into the empty room across the hall as their feet kicked out, nails digging into her uncovered forearms. She was glad she'd thought to roll up her sleeves and ditch her jacket, it would have been hard to explain claw marks to the king. The assassin pried themselves free, rising to their feet in the dark room, a second knife spinning in their deft fingers. Amon sighed, tipping her head in a quick nod to accept this new challenge.

They really needed to finish this before the king realized she wasn't there.

Slapping the assassin's wrist out of the way, Amon tried to land her own strike. A hand shoved her hand upwards. This continued for a more strikes, each of them finding an equal match in the other until Amon finally just grew tired of trying to offer a fair fight. Her eyes locked on the being before her and she slid to the side, focusing on the darkness behind them. She hated using this technique but this had to end. She reached behind her and yanked open the shade covering the window, forcing light into the room. As the assassin covered their eyes Amon sank into the shadows and darkness around herself and emerged in the assassin's own shadow, newly cast, and brought the knife down into their throat ripping the blade to the side. With a choke and a sputter the assassin's hands dropped their knife and spasmed before they sank to the ground.

Amon shuffled back from the growing pool of blood so her shoes wouldn't get wet. She didn't want to leave a trail of bloody footsteps behind her. So she skirted the body, closed the shade once more and then exited the room. This was a mess she could deal with later.

Rolling her sleeves down and buttoning her cuffs once more, she made her way toward her disregarded jacket and the tray of tea and snacks. Stooping down she shrugged her jacket back onto her arms, allowing it to remain open. She'd need to disinfect her arms, they stung a bit and she worried that the assassin might've had some sort abrasive under their nails. It could wait. She lifted the tray onto her left palm, opening the king's door with silence.

He was already awake, staring at her with wide crimson eyes in the lamplight.

"I brought tea." She smiled at him, head tipped to the side, coming to set the tray beside him on the bed. "It's a new blend. Perhaps this one will help you sleep more soundly."

The king didn't comment on her tardiness, he rarely did when it came to these moments. Instead he accepted the teacup she gestured for him to take, and he relaxed against the headboard of his bed, blanket slung low on his lap.

Amon didn't mention that these nightmares of his were growing stronger again. He had gone through a spell of sleeping straight through the night, but now he woke up in cold sweat, a little wild and a lot lost if his eyes were to be believed. She posted herself in a chair near him, quiet. She always waited for the king to be the one to speak on nights like this. She didn't want to force him.

"Tea is good." He commented quietly, definitely drowning in his thoughts.

"There's plenty." She assured him.

"Drink with me."

"As you command, sire."

* * *

Hiei didn't bother looking up when he heard his office door open. Feet propped on his desk he continued to review the most recent reports from his generals. The sound of a tray being set on his desk still didn't pull his attention away from the overly dry, and in his opinion overtly sarcastic, document. Takeo had really grown an attitude recently. Hiei reached over blindly and plucked a pastry from the tray.

"Did you want to read this when I'm done wit hit?" He asked before biting into the cream puff. How did she find time to make these? Did she have the kitchen staff do it? When had she shown them how? Food had really gotten better since her arrival. He was having to train twice a day just to keep himself from feeling like he wasn't over indulging.

"Uh, no thank you. I mean. No thank you, _sir_."

Hiei's head nearly spun off his shoulders and he jerked it to the side, eyes narrowed on the young boy who stood across the desk from him. Green hair? Rabbit ear? Rumbled hand-me-down suit that most definitely did not fit him and most likely had been Amon's at some point? Was that the suit she'd arrived in. What fresh hell…

"Who the hell are you?" Hiei demanded, shifting his feet off the veneer of his desktop so he could turn to face the boy. He flipped the report upside down to keep those bright eyes off the words.

"I'm Benji. I mean. I'm Benji, sir. I keep forgetting that part." Benji muttered the last sentence to himself, glancing down at a notecard in his hand. Then his eyes widened and he ducked down into a deep bow, green curls shaking with the sudden movement. "I'm supposed to give you your breakfast and," Hiei watched as the boy rose up, squinting at the notecard, "tell you that you have no meetings today? That's silly. Why would you need to know you aren't busy?"

Hiei blinked, then tilted his head as he scrutinized the mess of a child before him. He couldn't recall ever seeing this boy before. He had no idea who he was. Those innocent looking eyes weren't enough to dissuade his active suspicion.

"Where is Amon?" Hiei asked, his breakfast forgotten.

"Oh. She's doing some things." Benji told him with a bright smile.

"What things?" Hiei drawled slowly, trying to bait the truth from the rabbit child.

"I don't know. She wouldn't tell me. She said it was need to know and that I didn't need to know." Benji deflated some with the admittance. His shoulders fell and he openly pouted. "She just told me to stop asking questions, follow her instructions and give you your breakfast."

"Well, I need to know, so now you need to follow _my_ directions. Go and tell her to stop sending children in here to serve me because that's _her_ job."

"You got it." Benji offered a finger gun in acceptance. Then he paused, looked down at his notes again, and blushed. "I mean, as you command sire."

The boy offered a quick bow before quickly skittering from the room, calling himself an idiot as he went.

Hiei sighed heavily, bowing his head down to his steepled fingers.

Amon had gone out of her way to dodge him recently, ever since the incident in the caverns. He had a hard time calling her out on her behavior, given she still managed to perform her duties. She just made sure there was no time for him to pull her aside for training or a conversation about what they were going to do about her powers and the lack of control she'd demonstrated.

* * *

Benji approached Amon with a dipped chin and slight grimace. She was busy tending to a few local vendors, signing forms and making selections. Over her shoulder she glanced at the boy. Her brows pinched down. Dismissing the collective surrounding her she opened herself up to listen to whatever it was that Benji looked pained to say to her.

"Are you alright?" She asked him, concerned.

"Well, it's just that, the king wants to see you. He wasn't very happy I was there." Benji rubbed his arm, avoiding eye contact with her. "I tried to stick to your notes, but I forgot to bow a few times and I forgot to say sir."

"I'm surprised he cared. He's constantly telling me to stop doing both." Amon smiled gently, rubbing the boy's head between his drooped ears. "Tell me what happened."

"He asked if I wanted to read some papers or something and I told him no, then he asked who I was and then he told me to go get you. He said to tell you to stop sending _children_ to do your job." At this Benji truly sunk into his shoulders, discouraged.

"Ah." Amon nodded then, and rubbed his head. She took his chin in her hand and raised his face. "Chin up, Benji, the king is just a particular man. I'll speak to him about it. Don't take it personal, he can be quite the difficult man to please."

"So I didn't mess this up?"

"From the sounds of it, no. You did fine." She assured him with a calming smile. "Thank you for taking care of that for me. It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to be in multiple places at once. Your help this morning was a great help."

"Really?" His ears rose, perking up as his eyes brightened.

"Really." She nodded.

* * *

"Sire, I wish you had been kinder to Benji. He is doing his best and is quite young. You stole some of his confidence from him and that seems unnecessary."

Hiei pulled back from running through his katas, turning to face Amon who had somehow managed to make herself scarce for the entire morning. Not bothering to pretend to be satisfied with her recent disappearance he glared at her. She stared back at him, unmoved by the scalding look he delivered onto her.

"Don't show up just to nag me." He warned her. "You should have been the one doing _your_ job."

"I'm training Benji to assist me. My tasks are many and in order to fulfill your needs to my satisfaction, I am finding myself needing extra hands." She informed him, one red eyebrow raising.

"Not to my satisfaction?" Hiei demanded.

"Between the two of us, I think my standards for my work are actually more stringent. And my standards for Benji are the same. I don't understand why you had to yell at him. He's just a boy."

"He's inept."

"He's learning."

They locked into a staring match and Hiei sheathed his sword so it wouldn't be in his hand when he marched over to her. "Where have you been?"

Amon's eyes moved around him to the practical lake marring the training area. Her lips pursed before she answered him.

"I had some matters to attend to."

"What matters?" Hiei demanded hotly. "You've been particularly flighty as of late, Amon. That's not an admirable trait."

She opened her mouth to retort then closed it, eyes raking over him and his annoyance. His energy spun around him in that way that flexed with his anger. Her tone adjusted, growing curious. "Why do you assume I'm flighty?"

"Because you are. You've been avoiding having a conversation with me." Hiei pointed out, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Not intentionally." She shook her head, then shrugged. "I hadn't realized there was something you needed to speak with me about so urgently. I'm sorry I haven't been more available."

"What do you mean not intentionally? Don't stand there and lie to me. Ever since that," Hiei gestured stiffly toward the pit of water, "You've done your damndest to stay at arm's length."

"You already told me not to use my powers without you around." Amon reminded him. "I agreed. I thought that was the end of the conversation."

"Well, it's not." Hiei griped.

"I'm here now, listening." She prodded. "What else do you need to tell me about it?"

Hiei floundered, not expecting her to be so straightforward. His points evaded him, and the longer Amon looked at him, the further they fled from his mind. That only fed into his frustration. If she had been around sooner he could have done this while everything was fresh, but no, she had to corner him when he wasn't expecting it.

"We need to craft a schedule for training you so we can ease you back into your energy." Hiei finally settled on saying, put out. "You won't get control if you don't practice and I don't want you practicing without me."

"As you wish, sire. We'll create a schedule for that soon." She nodded. "In the meantime would you mind signing this for me?"

She extended a document secured to a clipboard. Hiei waited a beat for taking the form, pulling the pen she'd slid into the top of the clipboard. He barely glanced over the paper before pressing his pen to the line above his name.

"What am I signing for you, exactly?" He asked, already midway through the jagged edges of his signature.

Amon sighed, her expression flattening. "Sire, please read thoroughly before ascribing your name to something. What if I was someone deceitful? You have just signed your life away."

"To you? Hardly a worry of mine." Hiei smirked for a quick second before going back to looking sour. "So, what is this?"

"Travel permissions with a declaration of provisions to be moved."

Hiei held the clipboard tightly when Amon tried to take it back. "Travel permissions for who, exactly?"

"Us." Amon responded. "It's all in the document. The carbon copy is for your records."

"Us?" Hiei frowned.

"Yes. We are going to the west."

"Are we now?"

"It's the the starting point of the uprisings."

"Why would I want to go visit the people who want to depose me?" Hiei demanded. What the hell was Amon thinking? Is this was she had spent the week plotting, a goodwill mission with no possible gain?

"Because they want to depose you due to your and Mukuro's lack of care. I've been doing further research into this matter, as Takeo's report rose more questions than it answered in my opinion. Those people are starving. They need a king who will support them, will be sure they get an equal chance at the bounties of the land. Your Western Provinces provide the kingdom with ores and minerals necessary for the creation of weaponry and smithing, but their land is toxic because of this. They cannot grow their own food and it seems that no one has bothered to be sure they receive what they need to survive. If I were them I'd want the king's head too."

"It's a hovel, Amon. I've been there and I don't want to go back."

"It's your hovel, sir, and you need to own up to it. You're going. And while you're there you're going to personally carry the supplies to the market and the homes of your people. Then you're going to meet with the local leaders and discuss how you can best support them going forward"

"I told you, I'm not going."

"Fine. Then I'll go without you. Maybe they'll make me king."

Crimson eyes met cobalt, the two of them squaring off. Hiei's jaw clenched, his determination to not be told what to do flaring as his eyes narrowed. Amon remained steadfast as she faced him, completely relaxed. Then she smiled, a small partial expression that barely touched her lips but shone in her eyes. Hiei doubled down in himself, offering an almost imperceptible shake of his head to warn Amon off this stubborn path she'd chosen.

He wasn't going.

He wasn't fucking going.

* * *

Hiei grumped, sulking, as he stood on the head of the massive insect barreling over the ground as it carried them toward the Western Provinces. His eyebrow twitched in his annoyance until-

"How do you stand there so comfortably!" Amon had been trying to get her feet for the entire trip so far. They had a long way to go still. Hiei looked over to her and didn't bother hiding his biting amusement as her legs shook unsteadily. A sudden bump sent her down to all fours, grappling for stability. "This is awful. I should have stayed behind."

"We can turn around." Hiei offered, a twinkle in his eye as she shot him a venomous glare.

"We will do no such thing. It's merely standing. I can find a way to make it possible." She once again pulled herself to her feet, legs spread wide for a better base. After a minute she dared to draw her feet closer together. When she didn't immediately fall she smirked at him, haughty. "Ha! See! It's just a matter of-"

Another bump made her stumble.

It was the most uncoordinated Hiei had ever seen her. She looked like a newborn deer trying to get used to its too-long legs. Granted, her legs were fairly long, but they had never posed such a challenge for her. Out of a sense of mercy he stomped over and took her elbow in his hand, drawing her upright.

"If you stand over here instead of on a _slope_ you'll have an easier time." Hiei flashed her a look that clearly spoke of how humorous he found this situation. "I can't stand here watching you fall over like a toddler anymore. I'm embarrassed for you."

Amon grumbled under her breath but another jarring bump sent her scrambling for support, her hands latching onto Hiei's arm with a tight grip to avoid falling again. Hiei raised his eyebrows at the contact, but didn't speak of it. It took her a few more minutes to stand on her own, her fingers slowly slipping away from his skin as she found her balance.

"I think I've got the hang of it." She told him, prideful.

"We'll see." Hiei responded easily. "Alright, Amon. Do your bit. Tell me what I'm supposed to know about this trip so we don't have to spend more time than necessary in this wasteland."

"Well, firstly, I suggest you avoid calling it a wasteland when you're amongst the locals." She chided, the words carrying an underlying sharpness she tried to hide.

Over the next few hours she explained the rest of the situation to him. The nuances she'd uncovered in her research about the culture. What the citizens had been going without, and for how long. She even delved into Mukuro's policies regarding the matter, how they were received, and how Hiei could alter them going forward to establish a better rapport.

When they finally came to a stop it was evening. Hiei refused to help Amon off the insect mostly because he wanted the thrill of watching her get flustered by not gracefully dismounting. Unfortunately she proved more able to remove herself from the shell. Following his lead she leapt from the top of the bug and landed in a crouch at his side, her suit jacket fluttering up around her waist before she straightened it out. Some of the locals stared at them, whispering to each other.

The gathered crowd parted for the approach of a woman flanked by two men. She stood with her crown barely the height of Hiei's shoulders, her men about the height of Amon. They all wore simple tunics of earthy colors, no sleeves underneath so their tattoos were on full display. The land under their feet was barren dirt and sand. The buildings and stalls lining the streets were all made of clay and wood. Hiei eyed the group as they approached and it wasn't until Amon cleared her throat and bowed shallowly that he remembered one of her other bits of advice.

Get respect by offering it.

So Hiei, annoyed, very shallowly ducked his head down before straightening out. The three demons who regarded them visibly stiffened, the two men glancing at one another then the woman, who blinked before bowing in return.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, King Hiei?" She asked in a husky voice. "I am Ahmya. These are my people."

Hiei glanced at Amon, who smiled at their hosts. "We're here to bring supplies."

Another wave of murmurs ran through the crowd, another bout of shock rocking through the woman before them. Her harsh mouth eased some, her dark eyes assessing the two demons before her.

"You've never cared about providing for us before." Ahmya declared, eyes narrowing. "What has changed?"

 _Amon_ , Hiei thought. He wouldn't be here if it weren't for his pushy servant.

"A new king brings along with it, change for better or worse." Amon answered for him, sweeping her hand to indicate the insect and then the people before them. "The king signed off personally on the provisions before they were loaded, and he has chosen to deliver them himself so he might see his people and learn their plight."

Hiei wasn't sure how to feel about Amon speaking for him, but damn if she didn't make him sound like a hero. Her eloquence in this matter once again made him question her history. She seemed so well practiced, so poised. Perhaps her quip about them making her king hadn't been the joke he'd taken it for.

"Is that so?" Ahmya regarded Amon with heavy scrutiny. "And you are?"

"The woman behind the man." Amon bowed once more. "I am Amon, the king's personal attendant and adviser."

"Adviser?" Hiei muttered, eyebrow raised. Amon ignored him pointedly.

Ahmya seemed to pull something from Amon's words that Hiei hadn't heard, because her posture loosened and she offered the tall redhead a warm smile. "Let's see this bounty you've honored us with then."

Hiei and Amon, alongside the people of the town, unloaded the barrels and crates and sacks from the insect. The demons all spoke to each other in hushed voices about the sheer amount of produce and water and fiber presented to them. Salt, spices. Amon had even thought to pack an entire crate of soil, accompanying it were planters and seeds.

"For raised gardens." She explained. "So that you may grow small batches of fresh foods for yourselves."

"Thoughtful." Ahmya expressed, eyes alight. She turned to Hiei. "You truly thought of everything."

Hiei's gaze flicked toward Amon before he said, "I suppose I did."

Taking credit for Amon's work felt strange to him. He didn't like it. She seemed ardently for this though, not bothering to step up and make claims for her own plan. He understood, implicitly, this must be fueled by her desire to see him a successful king. He pressed his lips together when he felt the attention shift from his person. A good king.

Amon worked so hard for all of this, to support him. To raise him up in the eyes of his people.

And he couldn't appreciate it fully because he didn't want to be a king at all, good or otherwise.

* * *

While Hiei met with Ahmya and her council the next day, Amon explored the small dusty town. The king was right, this area was a wasteland but she was far to polite to say as much out loud. Instead she greeted the citizens and smiled at the children—of which there were surprisingly few— until she happened upon a shop with a demon inside taking a needle and ink to the wrist of another. Her eyes watched, mesmerized, as the swirls of dark ink appeared in the canvas of tanned skin. Her feet carried her into the small single stall shop, and to the counter were this work was being done.

As she watched a shape took form, birthed from the curved lines under the steady attention of the artist wielding that strange rapidly undulating needle. She wasn't sure what it was, but she knew it was meaningful.

"Remarkable." She commented, meaning every syllable.

"Would you like a piece?" The artist asked her, pausing in his work, offering a smile that felt sincere.

Amon pressed her palm flat to the counter, her eyes roaming the man who had decorated himself from the left half of his face downward, both arms a patchwork of art that disappeared under the short sleeves of his tunic. Some of his markings made more sense to her. Geometric designs, creatures she could name.

"My skin is not clean enough." She explained after a moment, heaving a sigh of disappointment that she tried to quell. "I have far too many scars. They would just ruin your good work."

The two demons glanced at each other and then laughed. The artist and the patron separated for a moment each of them shed their tunics without shame, leaving them in their pants. The patron pointed out a long, thick tattoo that turned his back into a myriad of colors. This design featured splashes of color dancing around the black silhouette of a knife.

"This one covers the scar I got from during the collapse of one of the mines." He told her. "Gnarly looking thing it was. Chikao helped me cover it."

"Most of mine cover scars too. From fights. From surviving. The things we have to do." Chikao, the kind smiling man behind the artistry explained. "This isn't my born home, but it's where I chose to settle. And when I came here, I brought the tattoos with me."

Amon dared to inch closer to the patron, asking in a vary quiet voice if she could inspect his tattoo. With a rumble of laughter he invited her to inspect him all she wanted. Chikao laughed too, reminding the man in the chair that their guest was a member of the king's court.

"I'm not in the court, actually. I don't answer to anyone except for the king himself. I don't sit in the cabinet." Amon clarified, brushing her gloved fingertips over the colorful skin she was so engrossed in studying. "Do you only do these strange concepts? The abstract, the shapes? Or are you able to do something with more defined edges?"

"What did you have in mind?" Chikao asked, openly curious. "I'm always eager for a new challenge. I could sketch something out for you, if you have the time to wait."

"I have nothing but time." Amon assured him, pulling back to offer room for him to finish his current job. "I'll do a rough mark up of what I'm thinking while you work, if you don't mind."

By the time they finalized the sketch, the morning had become noon and the heat made stripping off her shirt easier. Amon, like the men in the parlor, offered no sense of shame for her bare skin, only for the scars that had been carved into her. Afterall, her chest was wrapped. She sat with her back facing Chikao, her arms folded over her shirt, vest and jacket where they lay slung over the headrest of the chair she'd been ushered into.

"You're positive about this, right?" Chikao checked, once again. "This will hurt and what you want is going to take time."

"Do I look like a woman who has any reason to fear pain?" She asked him, eyes cutting over her shoulder.

She caught him studying the map of her history etched into her skin, his lips pressed thin. Then he met her gaze. "No, I guess you don't."

Amon dozed off after the first forty-five minutes, only waking when Chikao very gently patted her left shoulder, the one he hadn't tattooed.

"Want to take a look?" He asked her, crouching by the side of her seat. Behind the curtain are a few mirrors so you can see it from all sides.

Amon blinked the sleep from her eyes and yawned as she pulled herself up, stretching her back. "Already?"

"It's night, Amon." Chikao laughed quietly. "You fell asleep. I'll admit that's a first for me."

"The way you move your hands is rhythmic." She defended herself hazily, still shaking herself. "Where is this curtain room?"

He pointed and she followed his finger then nodded, rising from her seat with her clothes in her hand. She pushed the curtain open and stepped into the small closet-sized space. She only just had room to turn herself. Across her right shoulder blade, over the crest of her shoulder and down to her bicep the tattoo spread out. It covered the skin near completely. Amon marveled at the artistry of the sweeping branches, heavy with glowing white flowers and thick green leaves. How Chikao had managed to actually make the petals shimmer was beyond her. It was like he had taken the image straight from her mind and somehow rubbed it into her skin. Her awe kept her in place for several minutes, staring at the tattoo from the different angles of the many mirrors.

"It worked." She breathed, entranced that she couldn't make out the scars beneath the surface of the ink. Her mouth quirked upwards into a smile, tears threatening to bloom. She inhaled through her nose, shook herself and just as she started to dress Chikao called from the otherside of the curtain.

"I need to wrap it." He informed her. Amon pushed through the curtain to marvel at him for a moment. "You'll need to keep the skin clean for a while."

"Thank you." She breathed the words, impressing the heavy truth in them into the man before her. "Chikao, you've, I can't even tell you what you've done for me."

"You're welcome." He told her, nodding.

When Amon made it back to her lodging, across from the king's in a small shoddily crafted building, she felt light on her feet. The king opened his door as she reached hers. His looked displeased again and she suspected her absence during his meeting with the leader of the town hadn't gained her any favors by him. Scanning over her he seemed to assess something.

"Oh good, so you weren't kidnapped or beaten." He told her. "I thought, seeing as you who've been missing _all day,_ something might've happened to you. I was ready to go looking for you."

"From the safety of your room?" She tilted her head, wry smile stealing over her lips. "Ready for bed?"

He was ready, she knew because he was barefoot and shirtless, his pants only thrown on because he had gone to his door. The king didn't often sleep in clothes when in the privacy of his own room. He growled a warning for her to watch her flippant tone.

"Your behavior has you on thin ice, Amon." The king snapped. "I'm not impressed with this streak of whatever this is."

"I was with the townspeople, making personal connections, exploring their culture." She told him then. "Learning names, meeting locals, the things you wouldn't find necessary. I thought I'd spare you that portion of this trip. I know how little you care for socializing, sire, but it needs to be done if you're to present yourself as a king who cares for his people. Luckily, you have me to save you from those moments by performing them myself."

The king eased some, softening his rounded shoulders and loosening his jaw. "Did you find anything of interest."

"Indeed." She nodded. "Though, I got distracted by a local artist. His work is quite prolific. Did you know that the mines have been collapsing? And the birthrate has plummeted since this region was absorbed into Alaric some years ago. I suspect the pressure to provide product for the heart of the territory has something to do with this."

"The mines were a hot topic today." He nodded. "Takeo has failed to mention them in his reports. They lost a dozen men just two weeks ago."

"Takeo fails to disclose many important details." She suggest with barely hidden disgust. "Did you strategize a way to support them?"

"Ideas were pitched. We'll review them tomorrow on our way back." He promised her. "We leave first thing, so don't run off during the night."

"I won't." Amon smiled then, hiding a quick chuckle by turning her head toward her own door. "I'll have your breakfast ready for you when you wake."

She slipped into her room and listened for the king's door to close so she could be sure he was actually going to sleep. He had a point, she'd been lax in her care for him in recent weeks, but it wasn't how he assumed it to be. Not even close. This wasn't an act of avoidance or defiance. Just the opposite. She wanted to show him her devotion in a way he could stand, and she wanted to help ease through the coming week's. The anniversary of Mukuro's death was fast approaching, nearly upon them. And with it came something else she hadn't even considered.

Amon pulled the worn note she'd rescued from the king's office floor weeks before. Her fingers smoothed the wrinkles out.

 _PS We_ _'re coming to see you soon whether you're ready or not._

Folding the note carefully once again, she slid it back into the pocket of her vest where it was least likely to get lost. Her king had friends somewhere out there in the world, across the former barrier into the human plane none the less. She had done some research into the matter and discovered tidbits of her king's past. Urameshi Yusuke, former Spirit Detective and more recently former king of Tourin after Raizen, his ancestor, passed. She'd been hurt to learn of Raizen's death and was ashamed she hadn't known of it before now. He'd been a close ally of her father's and she'd even spent time around him in her youth. A strong-willed, strange, wild creature. She wondered if this Yusuke was the same. And Kurama, the thief of legends. A relic from the king's time as a bandit maybe? Definitely a clever ally if not a shady one. The last of them though caught her off-guard but also filled her with a strange excitement. A human boy—man? She wasn't sure what defined human milestones—would likely be joining them. She had no recent experience with humans. It made researching how to be a hospitable host challenging but also incredibly interesting.

She readied herself for bed and for their travels the next day. This trip seemed to have accomplished what it was meant to. This was one more group of people on the king's side.

* * *

"Amon."

She turned to face him from sitting, refusing to stand on the unsteady crown of the massive insect as it barreled back toward the castle across the vast expanse that was Alaric's western lands. The rapidly moving legs kicked up piles of sand, coating the air with a fine dust as they rushed over the arid desert.

"Sir?"

"I've thought about what a good king would be." He announced, leaning back on his hands, his legs criss-crossed as he stared at the horizon while the red sun heated the day around them to sweltering levels. He basked in the tinted light, at home.

"And?"

"It's not me." He responded with ease. His eyes shuttered closed, his chin tipped upwards as he enjoyed the heat lapping at his skin. In a quieter voice he continued. "I don't want to be a king, good or bad."

Silence met his confession. He hadn't meant for it to sound so intimate, like he was admitting something personal. His voice wasn't supposed to grow soft. It had been meant to fall from his lips like a threat. He wanted her to know that this wasn't going to be forever, that this wasn't his goal and he wasn't about to waste his life in a position he'd never actually wanted. The words were supposed to bite, maim, leaving no doubt behind them for his seriousness.

He waited a few breaths for Amon to argue with him. He expected her to reel against him, offering her strangely forceful optimism. She would tell him he had to try harder, that he would be a great king and she would help him get there. That his people needed him. That he needed to do this.

He prepared himself to shut her down.

"It's not for everyone."

Hiei's eyes peeled open with lazy intention, his face turning toward the redhead. Cobalt eyes turned a hazy violet as they reflected the empty expanse of the blood-red sky arching over their heads, her legs stretched out with ankles crossed as she lay on her back. Red hair swam around her, a puddle of molten fire. In jarringly vibrant colors—even the black of her shirt seemed to shine alongside the white vest with its glittering crimson threads—she stood out against the grey shell of the insect as though she weren't even meant to be there at all. Relaxed breathing lifted and fell her chest, her arms tucked under her head for cushion.

"What was that?" He asked her, unsure he'd heard her casual comment accurately.

"I said it's not for everyone." She repeated herself, smiling with a particularly cheeky smile Hiei was sure he'd never seen on her face before. "Being king isn't for the faint of heart. I never wanted to be one either."

"Were you supposed to be?" He didn't normally get such an open opportunity to ask about her past. She intentionally kept it quiet, tucked away from the scrutiny of prying questions. She was being strangely open.

Instead of answering immediately, she sat up, her long hair spilling down her arm and over the front of her shoulder. It shifted in the wind caused by their vehicle's speed.

"Once, a long time ago." She told him. "But I never found thrones particularly comfortable."

He studied her and the way she looked at him, the hidden truth behind her words shining in her eyes. Her chin tipped up slightly, half her mouth lifted in a smile that graced her features easily. It looked natural on her, like this expression was how she was meant to be seen. Hair wild on the wind, eyes shining in the sun, relaxed and casual, this was a side of Amon that he'd never seen but he was sure now that this was a part of her that had existed for far longer than anything else he knew of her. She reached up and undid the top button of her shirt, then the one under it. The vest came off next. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows revealing her scarred forearms.

Yes. He was certain this was the Amon that existed in a lost past. He was witnessing the phantom of a history so foreign to him he wasn't sure what to do with it.

What sort of demon smiled that way, shining in the sunlight and talking about how she was almost a king, once.

Only once.

"You're staring." She told him, clearly amused. "You don't think I spend all my time in this uniform do you?"

"I've only seen you out of it during training. So, yes, I suppose. I've never thought about it."

"I think about what how you dress often. How strange you don't return the favor." Amon closed her eyes and leaned her elbow on her raised knee. Her palm cupped her cheek as she leaned her face into her hand, her smile widening while she looked him over. "For a man with so many questions dancing on his tongue you ask few. I find that interesting. What keeps you from seeking answers? Is it an inclination for privacy or is it something else?"

Hiei tilted his head toward her, one eyebrow raised as a half-grin touched his mouth. He found this line of conversation particularly funny, given how protective of her past Amon seemed to be. "Assumptive of you to think I have questions that go unasked."

"You think me a fool. That's alright. I suppose that works to my benefit." She responded easily. "But you cannot hide the truth from me, sir. I see it in the shape of your lips when you're ready to ask something but you hesitate and withdraw. The inclination of your head when I say something that catches your interest. The way you glance at me from time to time."

"Whose to say I'm not just bemused with you?" Hiei pointed out. "Or exasperated. At any given moment either of those could be true."

She leaned toward him, eyes alight, canines showing when she spoke. "I was captured by Greyfield on my way back to my homeland after some years in exile. I chose to stop at a village to rest before I headed off to destroy the compound of a rogue warlord. I fell prey to the charms of a particularly lovely woman with hair the color of spun silver and when I woke up I wore a collar. I never did get to fight that warlord."

"It seems lovely women are your undoing more often than not." Hiei commented a bit tersely.

"Not just women." She assured him. "I'm a fool for all manner of beautiful things, it's a fault I've never shaken."

He didn't ask why she was exiled, where she was from, or why she was headed back. Amon's grin grew and she shook her head.

"There it is again, that urge you continuously suppress." She taunted him with the knowledge she could see right through him.

"I don't like people asking me questions about myself." Hiei informed her with forced curtness. "There's nothing wrong with not demanding personal details."

"There's nothing wrong with you asking me either." She pointed out.

Hiei fixated on the way she specifically gave him permission as though not everyone would be afforded that luxury. As though this were a privilege just for him, her false king.

"But you won't." She studied his expression then shook herself and turned her attention to the horizon. "That's alright."

"Is it?" He truly wondered, because he was getting the impression she wanted him to pry into her life. Did Amon want him to know her secrets, to hold her past in his memories?

"For now." She spoke with certainty, as though she knew this would change someday.

"Amon." Hiei watched her react to her name with that shiver of attention she always paid him. The instant reaction to his call. "When I leave Alaric, what will you do?"

Her expression shifted into something new. The soft shape of a secret forming her lips into a softer smile, creating a gentleness around her eyes.

"Let's see where we are when that happens." She allowed, turning her face forward once more to close her eyes as the wind rolled over her. "It's too soon to predict with any certainty what I might do."

Hiei grunted acceptance of her answer, but mentally he began calculating. It had only been a few months since Amon told him that she'd follow him whether he was king or not. Had she changed her mind? Or was she sparing him the emotional proclamation of her indeed going with him? He heard her chuckle and it made him glance her way. When she caught him frowning at her, she outright laughed in a bright sound that shook him to his core.

"Something funny?" Hiei growled.

"Only to me." She calmed herself mostly, but continued to chuckle quietly.

Amon watched the king grumble, his dark expression pinching his eyes as he tried to piece out her reaction. There was no gracious way for her to explain how humorous she found his stubbornness. She could practically hear the gears whirring in his mind, searching for answers when he could easily just turn to her and open his mouth. But he wouldn't. She knew this like she knew her own name. Instead he would sit there and stew, brows pulling together, mouth set thin as he succumbed to his thoughts.

He was a strange man.

But she was endlessly entertained by him.

So he didn't want to be king? That was fine by her, it meant less work in the long run. She'd begin assisting him in finding a suitable replacement. At least this way she wouldn't have to stave off so many assassination attempts. Once the crown was bestowed to the next in line, the kingdom would be someone else's issue to sort out. Amon found herself more relieved to hear this news than anything else. Though, apprehension followed closely.

If the king was no longer a king, then what would she be to him? He wouldn't need an adviser or personal attendant. What would this mean for _her_? Who was Amon if she was not a servant of some kind? Could she go back to who she was before all of this? Did she even remember how?

She supposed it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to find out.

Until then, she'd be here at the king's side, hiding her smile because he couldn't get up the courage to ask her the simplest of questions.


	15. Gymnophoria

"Amon sends her regards and this note."

Hiei stopped himself mid-kata to glance over his shoulder at Benji, who bowed deeply in his direction. Retracting to standing, Hiei watched the boy for a moment. Those long rabbit ears drooped forward. They intrigued Hiei. Sometimes they were perky, upright and actively listening to anything and everything and then there were times like this were they flopped at the midpoint.

Walking over, Hiei plucked the paper from the boy's outstretched hand, noting the too large gloves adorning Benji's young hands. Unfolding the crisp paper after pulling it from the small unsealed envelope, he demanded offhandedly, "Stand up Benji. You don't have to bow that deep for me."

"Miss Amon said I needed to show the utmost respect." Benji argued quietly, not looking Hiei in the face as he toed the ground, hands clasped bashfully. Artfully, he avoided the crimson eyes scouring over him, and thus he missed the wry smile tossed his way.

"It's Miss Amon, now is it?" Hiei asked, amused. "Did she tell you to call her that?"

"No. I just…I guess I figured I should since she's teaching me and all. And she keeps talking about respect so calling her by her name seems rude the same way I'm not supposed to say your name. I gotta call you sir or sire."

"You look weak when you fidget that way." Hiei commented without malice watching the child blush. "You could stand to summon of _Miss_ Amon's confidence."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry. I mean, yessir. I mean, as you command sire."

Hiei shook his head at the obvious mimicry of Amon's speech pattern and turned his attention back to the note. Amon's handwriting was sharp and precise as always. The brief letter read:

 _Please try to be kind to Benji, he is doing his utmost to help and he is so very young. Your approval means the world to him. He admires you. He_ _'ll be assisting you in the mornings and evenings for the next few days. I apologize for my absence but I am attending other matters for the week that are of the utmost importance. I will still attend your weekly meetings and arrange the schedule for your meals._

 _I appreciate your understanding and your kind reception of Benji._

 _-AS_

"A S?" Hiei muttered to himself, brows pulling together. What did the S stand for? He'd never seen Amon's initials before and hadn't realized she might have a surname. Strange that she'd never mentioned it to him in their time together.

"As? As what?" Benji asked with his large-eyed confusion pronounced in the tilt of his head, the flop of one of his ears.

"Nothing." Hiei pocketed the note. He assessed the boy before him silently.

Benji still wore a suit that was patchwork at best and much too large for his form. It had been poorly tailored to his size. His shoes were shoddy, the toes worn down. The gloved were not only over-sized but also had two holes in the fingers on his right hand. His curly green hair was a mess and untamed. Hiei was fairly sure he could see debris in it. Overall, he was unimpressed. He'd pulled Amon off death row and she'd still somehow been more put together than this munchkin.

But Amon had repeatedly asked him to treat the boy with some semblance of kindness.

"Anything else?" Hiei asked, repressing the curt tone he wanted to use.

Did Benji really admire him? Why?

Somehow the thought helped curb his tongue and his mild annoyance. He supposed that he could forgive the boy for being young and inexperienced. In fact, he wouldn't have noticed the ineptitude at all if Amon hadn't proven herself so damn capable. How fair would it be to compare this child to Amon? He couldn't do it. He had to treat Benji as though he'd never had a competent servant before. Given that mindset, the boy wasn't too bad.

Still incredibly shabby though.

"Oh! No. I was also told to wait until you're done training and then offer you a towel and water and remind you that you have a meeting with your cabinet in the afternoon, which I don't fully understand. Why would you meet with furniture? Seems silly. Being a king must be really strange." Benji rambled, counting on his fingers-the fingertips of the gloves hung from the ends of his actual fingers-as he listed his orders.

"Cabinet refers to my advisers and generals, Benji. It's not furniture." Hiei corrected with only minimal sharpness.

"Oh! That makes way more sense. I thought you were just a little crazy or something." Benji rubbed the back of his neck.

"Amon hasn't drilled a sense of tact into you yet, I see." Hiei crossed his arms over his chest, watching a horrified look spread over Benji's face.

"She's going to drill me with tacks? I didn't know that was part of the training!" Benji's strained cry and fearful eyes forced Hiei to blink.

And then Hiei laughed, deep and honest. When he stopped, Benji gaped at him, alarmed and enthralled based on his wide glittering eyed expression.

"Come with me, Benji. We're going to get you some items necessary for your position as Amon's apprentice."

* * *

The conference room sat empty except the three of them, something Hiei had arranged on purpose. He watched as Amon assessed Benji, stretching his arms out to study the fit of his new clothes. She tugged on the jacket and checked where the seams sat on his shoulders. Head to toe she scanned him. Then she paced around him. Then she stepped back, having said exactly nothing the entire time. Benji stood under her attention with a look of mixed adoration and terror.

Hiei could relate to the emotion. He imagined Amon had that aura about her often.

"You look perfect." Amon finally sealed her approval of the boy's new attire with a hand in his hair, ruffling the clean but still wild veridian curls. Offering Benji a soft smile, she dismissed him. Once he was gone from the room she turned to Hiei. "This is your doing?"

"Naturally. Who else?"

"Why?"

"I did it for you too, remember."

She squinted, then nodded slowly as if she didn't quite believe him. That could be due to his half-grin, his amusement clear as he watched her suspect him of something insidious. Amon had truly opened up in his presence, allowing her emotions to flash over her face without restraint. That's why he wanted to do this without an audience. The minute anyone else entered the room she'd go back to wearing those stoic, professional masks of hers.

"Thank you." She told him finally. "It means a great to deal Benji, but also to me. I'd very much so like it if you accepted him."

"You think I did this as a favor to you?"

That calculating look flashed through her eyes again, another assessment charging through her to determine if he was joking or not. Hiei enjoyed it when she couldn't read him.

"I think, whether it was a favor or not, that I am still appreciative of the effort you've made. So once more, thank you."

"You're so diplomatic, Amon." Hiei tilted his head, still offering her that warm partial grin he rarely displayed. "Why can't you just admit you're being vain and that you think I did this to please you?"

"Did you?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.

He stared at her in silence by way of responding. Pushing off the wall he leaned against, he unfolded his arms from his chest to approach the head of the table. Resting his arms on the back of the chair he'd eventually toss himself down into he waited for her to formulate some other remark, knowing she wouldn't. She would rather dodge and dance around his point. She would not tell him that she thought this had been for her. He knew it. She knew it. But neither of them would admit it, and Hiei knew this too.

"You think I'm vain?" Amon asked instead, hand rising to her chest as she feigned offense.

"Aren't you?" He tossed back.

If she wanted to ask questions instead of providing answers he would do the same and see how far he could push until she eventually scowled at him and pouted. As it was, she was already glancing over his expression repeatedly. Her stance shifted ever so slightly, changing from that firm posture of a faithful servant into the spread-foot chin-lifted stance of a stubborn spirit. She never moved too much but he'd learned to read through the subtle changes. The few inches separating her feet, the way she angled toward him in challenge, the lofty rise of her chin. In moments like this she faced him like an equal and it was as close as they ever got to true balance between them.

"Speaking of wardrobes, you're meeting with the seamstress this evening to be fitted for some new attire." Amon stated this with the utmost certainty as if he wouldn't dare argue with her.

"I don't need new clothes." He was definitely going to argue with her.

"Your servants cannot dress better than you."

"I'd hardly call Benji the best dressed demon in the castle."

"No, but I am, and I'm tired of outshining you so you'll soldier through the fitting." Amon crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes.

"There's that petty vanity again. You truly think you're the best dressed demon around here?" He rested his chin on his folded arms, having to lean forward to do so. It was an unusually playful thing for him to do as he grinned at her.

Amon sighed, forcing more into the action than necessary. Before she could further her argument Hiei dug into her again, not wanting to miss this open opportunity.

"Are you always this dramatic?" He asked her, teasing.

Her lips pressed thin and she inhaled with flared nostrils.

"That's a yes." He pointed out.

"Sire, could you please just humor me?" She asked him. "Must you fight me on everything?"

"Yes."

She scowled at him and Hiei chuckled, glad for this momentary victory. Amon always ended up getting her way when it came to these requests so he wasn't sure why she felt so offended.

"What do I get out of dressing to your standards?" He demanded lightly, raising his chin so he could gesture toward her with one lazy hand. "I already have your respect."

"My respect is not the ultimate outcome, sire and you know that."

"Would you consider it penultimate?"

"I would not even consider in the top fifty percent of reasons you should do this." Amon explained, gesturing toward him. "You should want to command respect."

"Isn't that what I have you for? To go around bullying people into respecting me?"

Amon offered a strangled cry hidden under a sigh. Her eyes rolled upwards to the ceiling, and he watched her count silently to herself before closing her eyes and shaking off her frustration.

"You make it incredibly difficult." She told him finally, calmer but also more put-out.

"It?" Hiei raised his eyebrow. "What's it?"

"Everything." She threw both her arms wide. "You make everything difficult!"

"I do try my best." He smirked then and she looked ready to fight him for real. He wondered what button he'd have to push for her to lunge at him. "If you would stop with the games and tell me why I suddenly need new clothes I might be more willing."

They shared a look for a long second, but the door opened and the cabinet members trudged in. Amon turned into the perfect servant once again, her eyes closing as she walked to Hiei's side, her notebook appearing from her inner pocket as she prepared herself to document the meeting. Hiei sat down in his seat and leaned back, appraising the many faces in the room. None of them looked happy to be there.

"Let's talk about the south." Hiei started and the tension in the room doubled, bringing a dark grin to his mouth. He had them squirming in discomfort and he thrived on that feeling. They had been keeping secrets from him, endangering his citizens and now that he knew about it he took every chance he received to remind them that he was in charge and he knew what they had been doing. Undermining him, as Amon had accused before. Because of them and their neglect he was hated.

He didn't particularly care about the opinions of the masses of Alaric, but he did care that those opinions had been tainted through no fault of his own. It was one thing to hate him for being himself, but to hate him for something he had not been responsible for was not going to work for him. If history remembered him as Alaric's worst king so be it, but goddammit, it would be because of his own ineptitude and not the idiots who worked for him.

After the meeting, once silence rung behind the doors that had slammed closed behind the generals, Hiei closed his eyes.

"I like this side of you."

His eyes opened suddenly, his head turning so he could stare at Amon. He watched her walk to the chair closest to him on the left side, sitting down in it with a secret smile painted on her lips. His eyebrows pulled down as he studied her. She placed her closed notebook on the table, her pen resting beside it and for a moment she seemed to just relax. He wondered what had her so busy that this brief rest brought so much delight to her face.

"You're finally taking control instead of running from it. I enjoy seeing it." She went on when he didn't say anything. She looked at him with a warmth he couldn't name. "It's a shame you've made your choice because like this you'd make an attractive king."

Hiei blinked, not sure what to do with that comment.

"It doesn't matter." She decided aloud, and he wasn't sure what she'd been discussing with herself.

The energy he'd had for arguing had left him in the wake of the meeting. Brow beating a bunch of opinionated, thick-skulled, egotistical demons had taken his good mood and smothered it.

"I'm not torturing myself with a fitting I don't even want." He told her firmly. "Don't push it."

With a shrug she let it go.

He didn't trust that gesture. She had been vehement about this before and now she just gave up?

"I mean it, Amon. And this isn't like when we went to the west. I will not do this."

"Honestly, I figured as much." She admitted.

He frowned.

"Your current mood aside, I'm still proud of you for how you handled this meeting. You may have hated going west but it seems to have impacted you." Amon smiled at him, that strange soft smile and he was left staggered by it. Why was she telling him this? She was proud of him?

What the hell for?

"I don't understand you." Hiei stated, studying her. He straightened and swept his eyes over her. When Amon tipped her head to the side, eyebrows raised, he knew she was trying to make sense of the sudden seriousness seizing him.

"It's my accent." She quipped, chuckling at her own joke.

"You don't have an accent, Amon." Hiei exhaled heavily, still watching her. "It's just you. Everything you do is strange to me. I don't understand your motives. Why do you push me to investigate the plight of my people? Why do you hire people to make me new clothes? Why do you argue with my cabinet members to respect me? Why do you visit me at night to keep me company? Why do you do anything that you do?"

"I see you've decided to ask all your questions at once instead of not at all. This is why you should ask them as they come, sir, so you don't burst open." Amon responded, seemingly unbothered by his increasingly tense tone.

Hiei wasn't sure where this anxiety was coming from, but it was bubbling up in his gut and he hated it but he couldn't seem to squash it. Every question he asked Amon made the feeling worse because they all sent him into spirals of thought and consideration of her true motives. What were they? How could Amon stomach working for him when she'd been subjected to someone's demands for so long? Did she secretly hate him? Was this all an act to gain his trust and slowly destroy him? Was she biding her time, working with his generals behind his back? Suddenly his throat felt constricted as though his breath was coming through a narrowing tunnel. His lungs weren't working as well as they had been just seconds before. Tension tightened his muscles making it difficult to rise from his chair. Instead he was forced to focus on breathing or more specifically the fact the action eluded him.

In his head he knew none of his suspicions were true. He had no idea where they had so suddenly come from, or why they had blind-sighted him. Amon had given him no reason to distrust her. In fact she was just telling him she was pleased with him.

So why then? Why was this happening to him? He hadn't felt this way since he had heard she was dying. This panic was useless, it made him angry at himself for falling prey to it.

He hated, even more than his failure, the fact that Amon was there watching him suffer through this moment.

"Sire?" She asked quietly, concern ringing clear in her tone.

He tried to tell her to leave, but the words couldn't break through the wall in his throat. The table felt solid under his palms, his fingertips digging into the surface as he tried to leech that steadiness into himself. Hiei pinched his eyes closed, feeling himself trembling slightly. He felt weak. He knew he had to look like a frightened child. He hated it.

But he couldn't make it stop.

"Sir, are you okay?"

His thoughts were unrelenting, they fed off his panic and grew and grew, circling around fears he hadn't even realized he had been harboring. No longer did those fears focus solely on how he would never live up to Mukuro's expectations. Perhaps he had Amon to thank for that as she had made him more sure of his place in the kingdom and despite his complaints, he actually did appreciate what she'd done to support him. Which is why the idea of her betrayal hit him so hard. He had grown reliant on Amon and her cooking and her comments and her presence. She had provided him that strange companionship he longed for in Mukuro's absence and in the wake of him forcing his friend's out of his life.

He had been alone in this castle until Amon had barged into his good graces.

"Hiei, _breathe_."

His entire existence stopped for a breath as the feel of soft leather cupped his cheeks, turning his head just slightly with great gentleness. He felt her thumbs brush over his skin. The warmth from her hands spread into him through that small contact.

"Breathe." She directed him again, inhaling deeply herself and then exhaling slowly. "Just in and out like me. Slowly."

Hiei felt himself follow her quiet instruction as he opened his eyes to stare at Amon's face. He breathed as she breathed, slowly, in and out. In and out. Her hands continued to cradle his face with the utmost care. Those sometimes cunning blue eyes radiated true concern and he felt like a hapless fool. As his body loosened and came back to life he remained in her hold out of choice. He watched Amon shift into a new mood as well, the concern shimmering in her eyes lessening and then softening to something else. She didn't pull away from him.

"I do it because you're important to me." She told him and for a moment Hiei could only look back at her with sincere puzzlement.

"What?" He asked, forgetting the bout of questions that had started this exhausting mess.

"You asked me why I do the things I do. I do them all because you're important to me." Amon explained softly. "And I enjoy helping those who are important me. It has been a long, long time since I've had anyone matter to me at all, but you do and so, here we are with me helping you."

A rush of unrelenting heat lapped at Hiei's stomach replacing that sickening cold. He swallowed some new form of desperation as he grew trapped in the delicate emotion in Amon's eyes.

Oh no.

Oh _fuck_ no.

Oh fuck _no._

The unmistakable pang of attraction caught him totally by surprise and it made it difficult for him not to stand now that he fully motor control of his body. His instincts told him to rise up, accept that soft sense of caring she offered him, and then to push her onto the table. He shoved those instincts down. Way down. So far down he hoped to never deal with them again.

He wasn't sure he could handle being attracted to Amon consistently. He had felt it before, small sparks now and then almost always during their sparring sessions. Particularly when she got that dangerous glint in her eyes and approached him with intent to prove herself. The memory of her pulling her glove off with her teeth struck him again and he nearly sucked in his breath. This wasn't okay. He had never felt this way outside of those moments and he hadn't wanted to. Arousal during training could be blamed on adrenaline, on endorphins. This? This was emotional. Hiei could not entertain thoughts of her for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which being that there was a huge discrepancy in their levels of authority. Amon served him. She worked for him. He could not violate her or her trust by acting on some feeble-minded desire. He felt as though Amon would allow him to do whatever he wanted because she tended to allow him to do most things. She acted to meet almost every one of his demands to the best of her ability. He could not-would not-abuse that.

So he ignored that inner call to act, and instead leaned back, peeling himself from Amon's touch.

It was then that he realized she had said his name. The heat grew more hungry in his blood. Another pang hit him again as he remembered, and he cursed inwardly about it.

"You said my name." Hiei pointed out aloud, as though Amon might not have realized what she'd done.

"Yes." She nodded as she leaned her backside against the conference table, her hands moving to hold the edge as she regarded him. "A personal crisis requires a personal response."

"And now that I'm not in crisis I suppose you'll go back to calling me by titles."

"That would be the proper thing to do." Amon allowed. "It would be incredibly rude and hypocritical of me to begin using your given name. And it definitely wouldn't help battle the rumors that we're involved behind closed doors."

Hiei felt a wave of relief he hadn't expected when she told him she wouldn't call him by his name. The relief was quickly swallowed by annoyance that she had so readily denied him this stupid, simple pleasure. Then came confusion as he understood her statement. "What rumors?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard them. The entire castle, and even some areas outside of it, are abuzz with talk that the reason you allow me to act the way I do is because I service you in more ways than one."

This was a trap. It had to be. Could Amon hear his thoughts? Was she picking on him for that spark of want he'd felt toward her? No. If she could read his mind she'd have reacted to something way before now.

"What the hell would prompt anyone to think that?" Hiei asked instead of voicing his thoughts.

"Perhaps we display a natural chemistry." Amon shrugged. "I think, mostly, this is not about you. It is meant to demean me and the work I do. There are many around here who suspect that I'm manipulating you in one way or the other. Sex is the foremost theory, as it is the easiest to accept and requires little proof."

"Being involved with me would be demeaning hmm?" Hiei forced himself to tease her, pretending her response wouldn't effect him. "It's good to know what you think of me."

Amon didn't stumble over her words or backpedal with apologies. Instead she held his gaze. Her tone when she spoke sent another thrill through him and he hated it as much as he enjoyed it. Maybe what he hated was the fact he enjoyed it.

"Don't put words in my mouth." She told him, refuting any argument he might come up with. "The demons who surround you, who want to influence you, they don't like that you listen to me because I stand against them. They don't want to believe I'm a capable intelligent being. They would much rather see me as some sort of pet, heeding your call and swaying you through sex. That is what I meant. But, to answer your remark, no. I don't think being involved with you would be demeaning."

Hiei wasn't sure how he was meant to respond to her, so he didn't. "For the record, I like it when you are more yourself than this proper facade you put on. I saw it when we were returning from our trip. You're not actually who you pretend to be, Amon, and now that I know that I want to see more of what lies beneath your cultivated personality."

"Now I'm the one who doesn't understand." Amon frowned. "I am who I am."

"I don't believe you." He watched her swallow, hesitation marking the way she looked at him. Then she raised her hand and pushed her gloved fingers through her bangs, holding the heel of her hand against the space between her eyebrows. For a moment she looked to be in pain.

"I am who I have to be." She told him quietly, no longer the resolute woman she had been just seconds before.

"No one is demanding you put on this act except for you, Amon."

His words did not put her at ease instead they seemed to make her withdraw from him a bit. Lowering her hand she looked at him from under her bangs as she bent her head forward. Frustration highlighted her expression, but also a little uncertainty. Hiei wondered what had her so dedicated to this display of hers. He knew part of it was the expectation drilled into her by Greyfield but she had been with him for nearly a year now and he had never made those demands of her. Just the opposite he had more often tried to get her to relax and let her stiff behavior go.

"I cannot stop being this way, not in front of _them_. If I show any indication that I am wavering, that I am growing too comfortable, it would mean I have lost my power." Amon explained to him in an imploring whisper.

"Then it sounds as though we've reached a compromise. You continue putting on these airs for whoever _they_ are but when we are alone, as we are now, you will show me more of who you actually are. You will call me by name. With me you'll be less proper." Hiei told her set on making this happen. He hated the heat associated with the idea of her speaking his name, but he would be damned if he allowed her to avoid it forever. Maybe he was a masochist, craving pain and punishment. These demands of his would only result in stirring his attraction and he knew it, but he made them anyway. Amon sucked in a breath and frowned at him, then her shoulders fell and she shook her head. Her subdued laugh struck him as odd.

"You are the most impossible creature I've ever met." She told him with quiet humor. "I suppose next you'll be demanding that I stop wearing my suits all the time."

"I would like to see what else you wear, yes, but I know better than to mess with a woman's chosen wardrobe. I once watched a Mazoku get nearly slapped unconsciousness by his chosen mate for commenting on her outfit. I'd rather not test that particularly boundary." Hiei grinned then, rising from his seat.

"That is the wisest assumption I've heard you make." Amon teased him with her own smile. "Though that does beg the question of what you think I wear other than these clothes. Pray tell, sire, what do you look for in a woman's wardrobe?"

"I'm not falling into that trap."

"It's not a trap, I'm genuinely curious. I know nothing of your romantic preferences as you've never shown any indication of having them. I find that a bit odd, personally. You're an attractive, powerful man with distinct taste in all things around you. You seem very sure of what you like and what you don't. Yet, when it comes to intimate company you're actually quite secretive. I wonder about that sometimes." Amon admitted without shame and Hiei was not mentally prepared for this particular conversation especially not so soon after he'd had his attack of attraction toward her. "I had a list of potential candidates whose company you might enjoy, but I have no idea if it would actually satisfy you. I don't even know if you already have a lover."

"I don't." He let nothing enter his tone.

She nodded thoughtfully, head tipped to the side as she watched him move around the table.

"I've made you uncomfortable." She declared, not sounding at all surprised. She also didn't apologize to him which he noted.

"Well, wouldn't you be uncomfortable if I started demanding such personal information about your preferences? What if I sat you down and asked for details about your relationship with Marielle? What if I told you that I had a list of demons I thought you might want to take to bed?" Hiei narrowed his eyes.

"I would tell you that Marielle and I have no relationship to speak of, and I am in fact only playing at enjoying her company because I suspect she's up to something insidious. Then I would tell you that I'm flattered you've considered my loneliness long enough to want to abate it but that I'm more than capable of taking my own lovers, should I want one. And also that I don't think you know enough about my preferences to make an accurate list anyways since on more than one occasion you've insinuated that I'm only attracted to women."

Again, Hiei internally floundered at her response but refused to show it. He hadn't expected her to actually answer him. Then again, she had told him he could ask her more questions as they occurred to him. It seemed she hadn't been bluffing. Her honesty warmed him, but it also made him uncomfortable.

"Why do you have a list?" He asked her, allowing his curiosity to show.

"Because I'd like for you to be happy."

"I don't need a woman to be happy."

"I never said the list was comprised of women." Her sly, teasing remark caused him to roll his eyes. "If you are ever in the mood to seek companionship I can arrange something for you."

"I don't need concubines, Amon."

"You keep assuming this is about sexual gratification but my list is more about finding someone you can actually find yourself comfortable with. Surely a physical relationship could, potentially, develop but my interest is more so in finding you a partner. Someone whom you can share your burdens with."

"So, not concubine but a queen." Hiei wasn't sure how he felt about learning this. "I'm not going to be king forever so I don't need a queen either."

She shrugged.

"Besides, I don't have room in my life for another woman. You take up most of my interest." Hiei went on, and as he said it he knew he was dangerously close to disclosing something he should keep to himself. Amon's interest and curiosity shone through in the way she turned toward him, eyebrows slightly raised, focus a little too intense as he spoke. "I still need to help you get your power under control and break you of these annoying habits of propriety if you want to survive without serving someone. I'd rather spend my time doing those things than courting someone I don't even know."

"Is that so?" The question seemed loaded despite her light tone and amused smile.

"It is." He nodded once, sharply.

"So you never crave another's touch?" Amon asked, once again shameless in her curiosity. It seemed to Hiei that she had jumped on his command to leave propriety behind when they were alone. Had she been waiting for this opportunity to corner him with these deeply personal questions? Or was this all just cropping up by nature of their conversation? She seemed awfully prepared in his opinion. But she spared him having to answer her, continuing on herself. "We are different in that way. Before Greyfield, I found great comfort in the touch of others. And I don't necessarily mean romantically, but platonically as well. It heals something in me when someone I care about treats me gently. I suppose I just wanted the same for you."

"Then why don't have your own companions?" Hiei wondered aloud, surprised by this news. Amon covered herself completely at nearly all times unless they were sparring together. She wore pants and jackets and long sleeves and those annoying gloves. She kept guarded space between herself and everyone else as though she couldn't bear to be too close to another being.

"I do have one." She expressed and then she smiled once more, that same strange secret smile he'd seen when she'd been basking in sunlight with the wind in her hair.

"Who?" Hiei hadn't meant to ask the question, it had slipped passed his filters and then hung in the air between them demanding an answer.

"Now who is demanding personal information?" Amon asked him, eyes glittering with some joke he didn't understand.

It clicked in his head suddenly, and it made him a little dizzy to consider: Amon meant him. She opened herself around him, she had more than once reached out and touched him to offer comfort when he had needed it. He alone saw her scars and her gloveless hands and her in something less than a full suit. She chose to post herself at his side. When they trained and his hands touched her skin, she never shied away in anyway that would indicate she disliked the feeling. He swallowed, blood rushing through his veins.

This was bad. It was wrong. Incredibly wrong and he had to do something to dissuade this situation.

But he couldn't bring himself to do anything.

"Keep your secrets then." Hiei tried to force rudeness into his voice but still the words came out a little shaken.

This time when Amon smiled at him, it was not friendly or sweet or warm or secretive. Her teeth showed, revealing sharp canines he had never noticed before. Her eyes glinted like a predator's in the dark, her focus on him suddenly felt intentionally ravening. He realized then her posture wasn't just of someone curious to listen to him, but her feet were separated and she comfortably opened her stance toward him. Her expression felt like a knife to his throat.

"As you command, _Hiei_." She spoke his name with intention and that predacious grin, chin dipped slightly.

He turned on heel and left the room, needing space between them before he did something he'd regret.

* * *

Hiei didn't go to his room that night. He didn't climb to the roof either. Instead he unleashed hoards of dummy-demons into the cavern and spent hours fighting them back. This is what he'd needed to clear his head. He should have done this earlier. Sweating, bleeding, muscles sore he felt at home and it demanded enough of his attention he didn't have time to think about Amon or her companionship or what that might imply. No. He didn't have time at all to consider why she would practically _demand_ that he understand where her affections lie. He definitely didn't have the energy to spare on considering that look that had sent him fleeing from the room like a coward.

No. That would have all been too distraction.

After he finished the last of his test-tube demons, he stood panting. Silence sang around him, comforting. He hadn't been down here in about a week. He needed to devote himself to training again. This had always kept him sharp, kept his mind focused on the necessities in life. His hand flexed as he thought about letting another group of man-made monsters loose so he could set the dragon free. It had been too long since he'd use it. He realized that he hadn't actually loosed the dragon since Mukuro's death. Not once.

How unnatural.

Despite the realization he let his fingers fall away from his palm and instead of going back to fighting he walked over the lake Amon had made. Crouching he cupped his hands in the cold water and used it to wash the sweat from his face. The action had the secondary effect of chilling his thoughts. After a second, when Mukuro and Amon and the dragon once against resurfaced in his mind, in a jumbled uncertain mess of guilt and frustration, he moved to lay on the ground, dunking his entire head into the pit of frigid water. He held himself there for a long minute, until his lungs burned for air and he couldn't think about anything other than breathing. He pulled himself with an unsteady gulp of air, his hands gripping the edge of the stone floor that walled the body of water.

His reflection stared back at him as the ripples ceased. Droplets roll from his hair down his jaw to his chin and distorted the man studying him with serious eyes and hard set mouth. Scouring himself, he used one of his hands to wipe his face dry. The reflection remained intact and in it he saw a man out of his depth. Once again the weight of the territory felt heavy on his shoulders, but now his guts felt just as heavy as he considered Amon. She had lifted so much off of him but this… this was weighing him down. He hadn't considered Amon would be stuck in the same thoughts as him. He wasn't sure why it hadn't occurred to him. He supposed that he never really thought much about anyone _wanting_ him in any sense of the word. People just happened upon him and stuck around, their reasons never clear to him.

Amon had no problem speaking her reasons. She cared about him. His happiness was important to her. And that look…

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and for the first time in months it wasn't Mukuro's help he craved but the team's. Kurama's pragmatic advice would be a boon at the moment. Yusuke's crude, but often accurate assessment, would bring new light to the situation. And even Kuwabara would at least be able to tell Hiei if Amon meant what she said. A dark part of Hiei told him it couldn't be true and that if she could admit to manipulating Marielle, someone she had shown a connection to, she could do the same with him. He didn't quite believe it but he also couldn't shake that fear.

Footsteps brought him out of head, and he turned from his reflection to eye Benji as the boy approached.

"Amon wanted me to let you know that she'll be unable to attend to you for a few days." Benji glanced at Hiei before reading from a note. "She has something she has to do outside of the castle and it requires her immediate and complete attention. And," he squinted, "she wants to thank you for understanding."

Hiei frowned. What could she be doing for so long and away from him? She had never left the castle for more than a few hours, except for their trip west. What matter could be so pressing? And why hadn't she mentioned it to him when they spoke earlier?

"Did she say what she was doing?" Hiei asked instead of voicing any of his other questions.

"No. She specifically told me to tell you not to worry about her though." Benji shrugged. "Oh! And I'm supposed to thank you profusely for buying me new clothes and a dictionary. She thought that was very nice. I mean. I thought that was very nice of you."

Hiei rolled his eyes and exhaled. How was he supposed to put up with Benji for _days_ on end? "Is that all?"

"Yeah, I think so sir." Benji nodded with fervor.

"You can go. I'm going to get back to training." Hiei stated, feeling strange about this turn of events. "Don't bother with breakfast, I won't need it. I should stop eating so much."

"What about your midnight tea?" Benji asked with an expression that indicated he wasn't sure what that meant but he didn't want to do it.

"Again, I don't need it."

"Okay. Then…I guess that means I'll see you in the afternoon."

Hiei just stared at the boy until he squirmed, bowed, and hurried away. He hadn't meant to be so stoic about it. Amon had specifically asked him to show some kindness, but he didn't feel very kind at the moment and it was mostly her fault. He'd tell her as much when she returned from wherever she'd gone without him.


	16. Alharaca

_A/N: I know it_ _'s been a while. I'm gradually trying to get back into writing so many stories and regaining any sense of consistency. This year was kinder than the last but it was less productive as I had infinitely more distractions and dramas to work out. Anyway, thank you for continuing to read and enjoy and I have already started the next chapter so hopefully it won't be months before it's release._

* * *

Exhaustion was a familiar feeling to Amon but that did not make it welcome. Her body ached and her limbs were heavy but rest remained a distant, fleeting hope as she made her rounds around the territory of Alaric. She went from checkpoint to checkpoint to finalize her plans and exalt her king in his own name. She wondered if he'd be angry to learn she had tricked him into signing paperwork for the dispersement of supplies to the corners of his kingdom.

She'd warned him multiple times to not be so trusting of paperwork, to read it thoroughly before signing.

It wasn't really a crime to help people anyway, no matter what his temper might suggest.

However, it was incredibly time consuming. Amon had spent the last two days making sure each area on her list had received the proper materials in the proper amounts with the proper notifications that these mercies were from the new king. And of course, with the invitations.

Everyone had to receive an invitation.

She was rounding up the RSVPs, in a way.

Now she found herself back in the west without her royal escort, on tired feet scorched through the soles by an endless sea of sand. Alaric was larger than she'd dreamed as a child. Larger than she'd been warned. If she had known then what she knew now what would it have changed in her? Would she still have left with the threat of this behemoth territory looming over her minuscule homeland? Would she have trained harder?

Who would she have been if she'd understood the threat that Alaric presented?

She'd always known. Stories had made their way to her ears from a young age. Her grandfather had spun tales. Immigrants spilled their secrets. She'd always worried about the distant, unfriendly eyes watching their every move. So maybe it wouldn't have changed much.

Or maybe it would have changed everything.

"Young Amon, what brings you back to our corner of the land?" Ahmya greeted her on the outskirts of the village, flanked again by her two top men. Amon bowed deeply in greeting, one arm bent over her stomach and the other down at her side.

"I came to see how you're fairing." Amon offered a smile, wan, in return to the kindness the other woman showed. "And perhaps I could beg a stay in the inn?"

"What has you so far from the capitol? Especially without the king?" Ahmya nodded and began guiding Amon toward the village proper.

Amon looked around as they walked. As tired as she was, she did still deeply want to know the town had begun to rebuild. Pleased, she noted the raised garden beds in front of some of the homes had started to grow. "Are the mines more secure?"

"Haven't had a collapse in weeks." Ahmya informed her. "Thanks to the beams the king sent us for structural support."

"He'll be pleased."

"I'm sure he will." From her tone, Amon inferred that perhaps Ahmya was wise to the ploy. "I can't wait to thank him in person when I attend this event of his."

"The event is for him, but I'm actually the one behind it. I'm thankful you'll be there. It is meant to be a celebration of the entire territory after all." Amon explained lightly. "Alaric has made great strides in recent months and I just want everyone to see that."

"Well I can't speak for the rest of the territory but we have definitely grown." Ahmya stopped in front of the inn, facing Amon. Carefully, a wizened palm cupped Amon's cheek. "You should rest, young Amon. You look weary."

"Soon. There is someone else I need to visit." Amon leaned into the touch, the rough skin reminding her of warm tree bark which comforted a broken piece of her soul.

"Ah, yes. Chikao is at his shop."

"Thank you." Amon removed herself from the touch of the village leader's hand and began walking toward the tattoo parlor. She could fall asleep in the chair again, it wouldn't matter. She had her sketches to offer and she trusted Chikao's work to fill in the gaps. Everything was almost in place, all of her hard work was so close to paying off.

There was nothing wrong with falling prey to her selfish need to look lovely as an art piece on the big day.

* * *

"Do you know where you little dog is?" Takeo demanded, barging into Hiei's office, nearly knocking Benji over in his haste. Hiei glowered up at him from his seat behind his desk, poured over papers that Amon usually read to him.

"You almost spilled my tea." He commented dryly.

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know where that mongrel is?" He seethed.

"If you're talking about Amon, then she's on leave." Hiei smoothed his face out to hide his own annoyance with her and the situation.

"Well I hope she's enjoying her vacation. If you'd like to read up on it, here." Takeo tossed a report onto the desk unceremoniously. "She's apparently been bouncing from city to city around the territory rallying up discontent like the menace she is. We've all received reports of her showing up in our outposts, talking to city leaders."

Hiei skimmed through the report, his brow pinched in confusion. Amon was wandering the territory? Why? He didn't want to show his lack of knowledge. These cretins were biting at the bit for a reason to pull her in line and he wasn't about to give them another scrap to work with. He set the report down and stared harshly.

"Amon serves a variety of functions at my request, that's her job." He spoke firmly. "Don't barge into my office again with your angry theories."

"So you're saying she's supposed to be in the west right now."

"I'm saying that Amon is my servant and unless she is brandishing a sword or otherwise trying to murder someone, just assume she's acting to my orders."

"This is why they think you're weak." Takeo told him in the coldest tone Hiei had heard in ages before sweeping from the room.

Benji shook in place, the contents of his tray clinking as they vibrated over the surface. Hiei watched him for a second and it clicked in his mind how young Benji actually was. He was just a child, probably younger than Yusuke had been when they'd first met. No wonder Amon had asked him to be kinder.

"Are you hurt?" Hiei asked to distract himself from his mounting frustration with Amon, her antics and the trouble she was causing him.

"Sir?" Benji asked in a shaken voice, eyes wide and ears flopped down and back.

"It's not a hard question, Benji. Answer it." Hiei snapped at him. "Are you hurt or not? You were hit with the door when he slammed it open weren't you?"

Benji only then seemed to realize that Hiei was correct and he had actually been struck by the door. He looked at his arm and then down at the tray and shook his head fervently. "No sire."

"No you're not hurt or no it didn't hit you?"

Benji looked up at him then down again becoming smaller with each breath Hiei took. "It did hit me. I'm not injured. You shouldn't concern yourself with such things. Your tea is getting cold."

He set the tray down in a hurry but managed to save the pot from spilling. With jittery motions he poured the liquid into a waiting cup while Hiei watched, then he bowed his head and stepped back as though he were waiting to be dismissed. Hiei pursed his lips, eyes narrowed. The boy was acting strangely.

"Is Miss Amon in trouble?" He asked quietly, not looking up from his shoes.

"Not yet." Hiei allowed. "Why? Do you know something about what she's up to?"

"No. It's just, some of the staff and the military men talk about her sometimes and it's a little scary." He explained in that same hushed voice. "She's always been kind to me. She gave me this apprenticeship and is teaching me so many things. I don't know why they hate her so much."

"They hate what they can't control." Hiei told him easily. "What do they say about her?"

Benji brought his hand up to his mouth, eyes flashing wider before he grimaced, muttering to himself, "Stupid! You weren't supposed to say anything."

"Benji." Hiei stood up. "Lying doesn't suit you. You need to tell me what you know."

"But, Miss Amon said-"

"Miss Amon isn't here." Hiei pressed, brows coming down as he stalked around his desk to pace toward the door so he could cut off the only escape route. Pointedly pressing his palm against the wood he narrowed his eyes. "Just you. And me."

Swallowing Benji shirked into his shoulders and stepped back. "Please don't tell her I spoke to you."

"Leave Amon to me."

* * *

Amon made it home in the warm hours of the morning, after breakfast but still early enough that the castle was lazy. She went to her room first, unlocking her door and dropping the rucksack she'd taken with her inside. After changing her clothes she did a quick check to be sure nothing was out of place before she left, turning the lock once more. The wrapping over the rest of her tattoos was easy enough to change and as proof of her growing strength the skin was already healing nicely even though it had only been two days. Checking the clock she stepped back into her routine with ease, small notebook in her pocket ready to take notes for whatever the day had in store.

Benji was in the king's office collecting dishes from what appeared to be a late breakfast when she breezed in on light feet. "Good morning sire, Benji."

"Miss Amon." Benji looked at her with wide eyes. He offered a display of relief that quickly dissolved into something akin to fear.

"I see you finally decided to show up." Hiei glared at her ruthlessly. "Did you enjoy your vacation?"

"I wouldn't it call it as much." She studied him. "Have I missed something?"

"Other than nearly five days of work, none of which you had the foresight to request from me before running off? Or perhaps you missed informing me on your whereabouts so I would at least be able to claim something less than ignorance when questioned?" He got to his feet, hands slamming on the desk.

Benji jumped, shrinking himself. Amon glanced at him, then steeled herself to carry the brunt of the misdirected anger.

"It's alright, Benji." Amon touched the boys shoulder, gently pulling him to her side before fixing her gaze on the crimson eyes boring into her. "Is this a necessary conversation right now?"

Hiei knew she meant in front of the boy. He had honestly forgotten he was there. All he'd seen was Amon and his anger was so hot, raw and intense everything else had melted away. Benji had filled him in on the things the castle walls spoke about her. On how his generals treated her behind closed doors. She'd told him once that their behavior was all in her favor, that she was taking advantage of it. That did not stem the flow of his frustration.

And her cleverness was not about to save her from his fury at her behavior.

"You can go." Hiei snarled at Benji where he hid partially tucked behind the woman. "Now."

"I'm the reason you're upset m'lord, you don't need to yell at him." Amon's cool tone did little to dampen his anger.

"I said now." Hiei repeated, just as hostile. Benji didn't wait for Amon to mount a second defense of him, he fled. Hopping out of the room as quickly as he could and closing the door behind him in such a rush it slammed into the frame. A soft, startled 'sorry' echoed through the wood to them and went unanswered. "You-"

Amon didn't flinch under his glare, she didn't really react at all. She stood before him with her hands at her sides, no expression to be traced. A blank target. It only fed his fury with her. Then she spoke again, cutting him off.

"I understand that you're angry with me, but it seems unnecessary for you to take it out on a child." She told him in that same detached tone.

"Don't tell me how to speak to my staff." He growled at her, a host of complaints welling up in his chest.

Her head tipped scantly to the side. He saw a flash of her own anger cross her eyes but she didn't let it out. He shoved away from the desk to march over to her, not caring to soften his steps or his voice when he spoke again.

"Do you have any idea what a fucking fool you make me look like?" He yelled at her. "Do you know how many generals I've had throwing reports in my face because of you? How many times I've been asked where you were, what you were doing? Do you know how goddamn stupid I look not being able to answer?"

"I hadn't, actually." Amon responded.

"Shut up." He hissed and she locked her jaw immediately. "I let a lot of your behavior slide, Amon. Too much it seems. Ever since you killed Yashishi you've been getting wildly out of hand."

Her nostrils flared, her chest rising and falling quickly. Hiei didn't notice but she did. Her muscles lit up with the sensation of static before the slow creep of numbness started to spread into emptiness. She'd heard phrases like this before. Out of hand. That's what Greyfield called her all the time. Out of hand. She'd caused him a lot of trouble too. It must be her destiny to enrage powerful men even when she did her best to appease them. The emptiness consumed her arms first, then her legs, chewing at her torso and slithering up her spine. Yes, this was all familiar. Her body was waiting for the inevitable.

"You take off for days without telling me where you're going. You hire and fire staff with absolutely no oversight. You run amok throughout the whole damn territory like it's your personal playground!" He continued to yell.

She wanted to defend herself, to tell him she wasn't running amok. She was doing something important. For him. It was all for him.

Her mouth wouldn't open. Her jaw wouldn't unclench. Her tongue was fastened to the roof of her mouth, dry and useless.

The emptiness tickled her nape.

She couldn't feel herself breathing anymore.

"And then there's the matter of you deliberately tricking me into visiting the outer cities! You've been allocating resources you shouldn't even be managing at all!"

Just do it already, she thought. Get it over with. Stop with the prelude and start the first act.

The emptiness numbed her throat, played with her ears.

"You are making me look like a goddamn puppet!" Hiei bellowed. "My men are calling me weak and disgraceful because you can't ask permission to do anything! Because you push and you take! Now I have to fucking deal with you."

Her mind went blank, or rather, disconnected for a moment. When it turned back on she was there but she wasn't. Nothing was real. Instinctively she waited for the blows to come safely tucked away in this dream where she wouldn't feel the pain. Her only true reprieve. She hoped Benji hadn't had to feel this way in her absence. She had been so glad to be back at the castle, her home. But it wasn't hers. Her space in this world was borrowed and she had forgotten that. She had forgotten to remain thankful.

"Say something!" Hiei demanded throwing his hands through the air.

The sudden action made her blink but nothing else. At his command her jaw worked itself loose, her tongue once again pliable.

"Apologies master, you told me to shut up." She responded without inflection. "What would you like me to say?"

"I'd like you to fucking acknowledge the mess you've made!" He hissed, completely lost in his own emotions to even register the change in her. Still, under the surface, something started to bother him.

"As you command." Amon moved fluidly, sinking first to one knee before him then the other. Hiei stepped back as she bowed her head to the ground. "I caused you obvious distress sir. I owe you the deepest of apologies. I should not have acted without your permission in any of these matters. I will not do so again. I've tarnished your name, your hard-earned reputation. I'm unworthy of your patience."

Hiei stared down at her his fury subsiding quickly into angry confusion. "I'm not interested in whatever pity-garnering game this is, Amon."

"Pity." She took the word and repeated it. "I cannot ask for something I don't deserve."

This reality was strange, wrong. Her fingers came up to her throat and in this dream she wore the collar again. Normally her dreams freed her. Why had this one shackled her?

Maybe this wasn't the dream.

Maybe that fleeting happiness had been the work of her imagination. The uniquely kind king. The hope of being more than what she was, it was all a fabrication. When had she gotten to this place? How long had she actually been here? Was this even real? Was the king? She dared to glance at him then shifted her attention away because it wasn't her king who looked back, but Greyfield. Was he really her master still? Had his death been just a sweet dream?

"Amon?" Hiei called her name his anger forgotten as though the flood of it had been dammed. "Amon, look at me."

Her attention snapped to him. Hiei sucked in a breath. Those eyes. Those thousand-yard eyes. Her hand remained at her throat, pressing to where her collar had been.

"I'm so sorry, master." She stayed near the ground, only her head raised to meet his command. "Have I been sleep walking again? I know how much you hate it when I wander. I don't know how I slipped my chains."

"Amon." Hiei felt the blood drain out of his suddenly cold hands.

This wasn't her. This wasn't his Amon. This was the woman who had been beaten into submission by Greyfield and his commands.

"Asleep or not, I have followed your commands." She let her hand fall from her throat. "I've been asleep too long, I don't know what you prefer. Another sign of my negligence. I am truly worthless. Has your favored implement changed? Should I prepare the mop? How can I best serve you as you punish me for my insolence?"

"Amon, tell me what's happening." Hiei demanded, alarmed.

"You're punishing me for disrespecting you." She blinked in confusion.

"No. I mean." He inhaled and then released it. "What do you mean you've been asleep for too long?"

"I've just woken from a dream." She informed him.

Hiei swallowed. "A dream?"

She nodded but didn't elaborate. He hated this, but he knew what he had to do to get his answers. Maybe she'd give a clue as to why she had shifted so suddenly into this state.

"Tell me about this dream."

"I dreamt I lived in Alaric in a castle full of people. A lot of them disliked me. I suppose that's natural, I'm not very likable." Amon explained with that awful distant voice, not like herself at all. Hiei could barely stomach listening to her. "But the king was very kind to me. He let me have a bed and a voice and my hair. He was a nice man. I think I'll miss that dream."

Her response broke him in a way he hadn't realized he could be broken, his ribs aching with the weight of her words.

What did he need to do? How could he pull her out of this? When Amon had last slipped into this fractured state and beaten Yashishi, she'd moved without consequence. Why did she bow to him now? How had he brought her back before? He'd grabbed her. So he knelt and snatched her arm, pulling it to him and dragging the rest of her along. Her eyes betrayed no surprise by his action, they offered no hint of pain despite his bruising grip. When her vision didn't clear he grabbed her chin so he could force her to meet his gaze. She didn't resist him. She didn't cower.

"Ah. Your favorite." Amon breathed the words and met his stare with her own. She knew this one. Greyfield's favorite torture. He wanted her to beg him for it. Hiei stiffened when she leaned forward, her breath ghosting over his mouth as she questioned him in a hushed tone, "You know I'll never do it until you command me. I'm not quite so lost, Greyfield."

Hiei watched her eyes narrow, felt her arm tense in expectation. Her body prepared itself for a strike he wouldn't deliver. Bile rose in his throat, scalding and sick, as he wondered if he had to fulfill this awful dream to get her back. He had only wanted to scream at her some. He just wanted her to understand what she'd done, how she'd made him look. He hadn't meant to break her. He hadn't wanted to lose her.

He wanted his Amon back.

Not this pitiful wretch who wouldn't even fight him off.

"You know what I want to hear." Hiei tried to keep his tone stern. Greyfield. She thought he was that monster. He had made her think he was the man who had enslaved her, had beaten her, had done whatever it was she thought he was about to do. His favorite thing. Some nightmare Hiei didn't want to understand. His resolve cracked but he mustered through for the sake of getting her back to her senses. For the sake of ending this god awful dream. "Say it where I can hear you, Amon."

Hiei gasped as she pushed him back against the base of the desk, one of her hands moving to caress the side of his face. She leaned over him while never breaking the hold he had on her other wrist and her chin. Her face was too close to his. His stomach churned and at the same time butterflies fluttered into his blood. Her lips nearly brushed his own and he couldn't breathe, his eyes wide.

"I want you to hurt me." She told him in a dark whisper that sounded nothing like the Amon he knew. "I need you to hurt me. Please, sir, please. I need you to punish me."

"No!" Hiei pushed her back, acting without thinking. Amon listed back and caught herself before she fell back completely. She stared at him, confused and wild-eyed. His chest heaved with his breathe.

He had never once, not ever in his life, felt filthier than he did now. Hearing those words, feeling her breath, knowing she was being forced to speak those horrendous sentences. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to wash himself. He called on the Jagan and it opened, but her mind was too mixed up to make any sense. He was met with a wall of static as though there was nothing driving her movements.

What had Greyfield done to her?

"I don't understand." Amon's voice cracked on the edges, a twinge of fear and desperation finally breaking through. "You told me to ask. I don't understand."

Her hand came up to her hair and she gripped her head as she stared at him.

"I don't know what you want."

"I want you to wake up!" Hiei stayed where he was, slightly afraid of what she'd do if he grabbed her again.

"I don't understand." She repeated. "I am awake. This is real. You don't want me to beg?"

"No, I don't." Hiei pressed himself back against the desk as disgust roiled through him at the mere idea. Maybe…maybe there was another way? "I want you to go back to that king of yours."

He watched as something grew hard in her. Some understanding clicking into place and it made him worry. Her gloved fingers pulled over the floor in a way that would have drug her nails if they'd been exposed.

Hiei felt a sickening twist in his guts.

Why wasn't the Jagan working?!

What was wrong with her brain that he couldn't penetrate it?

What good was this goddamn thing if he couldn't use it when he needed it!

"As you command." Amon spoke finally, resolved and he watched in horror as she threw herself forward so hard that her head bashed off the floor. He called her name in shock but she managed a second strike before he managed to surge toward her. Her body went still, blood gushing from a freshly formed gash on her forehead.

"Amon!" He rolled her to her back and found her eyes rolled into her skull.

The Jagan flashed and suddenly she was there again, accessible. He was in her mind as she swam in darkness, feeling nothing. Unconscious. He shuttered his third eye and untied his bandana, wrapping it around her head to seep up some of the blood from her wound. For just a second he sat at her side, stunned. He was an idiot. He had to fix this somehow.

He hadn't meant for this to happen.

* * *

Amon blinked awake, immediately groaning in pain at the throbbing radiating from her skull. Attempting to reach up to touch the sore spot she found her hand chained to the railing of the hospital bed she occupied.

"What?" She asked, yanking at the limb. Her eyes darted around the room, assessing quickly that she was still in her clothes but that both of her hands were chained to the bed, her ankles too. The bed had been adjusted so that she wasn't flat on her back, but reclined upright. Her search stopped when a pair of crimson eyes met hers, the king coiled in a chair near her side. He watched her warily, the lavender glow of his third eye unhindered as the organ was no longer hidden behind any covering.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked her quietly.

"Of course I do." She responded earnestly. "Sir, why am I chained to a bed?"

"You don't remember?" He squinted, studying her.

"I remember arriving. I remember telling you not to yell at Benji. You were upset with me, angry. Everything is fuzzy. Did I hit my head? I had a horrid dream." She rambled. "What happened?"

He watched her and then looked away, his legs leaving the chair to stretch to the floor.

"I happened." He buried his face in his hands. "I did this to you."

"You hit me?" She blinked, surprised. "You normally take being asked to be kind a little better than that."

"No. You hit yourself. You did it because of me." He told her with a headshake, unable to look her in the face. Instead he studied the lines on his palms. "You thought I was Greyfield. You thought you were finally awake. Something I did to you, something I said, it made you think that. It made you think I was him and that you had to obey me. I made you think I wanted to hurt you so badly, and you were fine with it. You asked me to hurt you."

"No, that wasn't you." She grew uncomfortable, shifting as best she could when locked in place. "That was a dream. About Greyfield. That's a game he liked to play with me. He liked to make me ask for punishment."

"You asked _me_." Hiei pressed. "You asked me because you thought I was _him_."

"I would never confuse the two of you."

"You thought your life here was a dream."

She stopped talking, her eyes studying him. Then she swallowed, her words coming out strangled with confusion, "That wasn't a dream?"

"I'm sorry Amon." He looked into her eyes finally. "I don't know how this happened. I need you to tell me how it happened so it never does again. Seeing you like, having you speak that way, I can't stand it."

"I don't know." She wet her lips, unsure what to do. "I don't remember. You were angry. You were yelling. I…you…I, uh," Amon tried to pull it all back to her. Tried to dig through the film coating her slippery memories. Then she found it, painful and empty. Her tone reflected her feelings when she finally spoke again. "I've gotten out of hand."

Hiei's eyes widened in alarm at the sound of her voice. "No, no. You cannot go back into that dream Amon."

"It's not a dream." She breathed out evenly, finally meeting his gaze with one of knowing exhaustion. "That's what you said to me. You said I was getting out of hand."

"You are." He remained firm on that point. "I assumed you realized that. I didn't realize it would come as such a shock."

Her mouth opened to form around words that wouldn't come right away so she closed it and then tried again. Then a third time.

Hiei watched from the safety of his chair. Her thumbs began to rub against her first finger as she stared at her the wall. He waited until she eventually stopped fidgeting.

"Ultimately this is my fault." The explanation was not at all what he wanted to hear as it fell from her lips. "I shouldn't put you in such compromising positions. Your anger is justified, my strong reaction to it aside. I need to get better control of how I respond to you and how I behave in general. That's the takeaway here."

"You know what triggered the episode." Hiei couldn't believe she hadn't divulged the truth. "You aren't telling me."

"You're a king, sir. A fairly good one." Her eyes dipped down away from the wall to focus on her restrained ankles. "You have such important things to do. You expend too much energy on me as it is. Don't worry yourself about this incident."

"How can you say that? Do you have any idea how it felt to have you demanding I hurt you? Having to watch you bash your face off the ground to appease me when it's not even what I wanted from you?" Hiei's frustration crept into his voice again, his words growing louder. "How can you tell me not to worry?"

Her next words were empty but sharp enough to feel like a slap in the face. "I wouldn't presume to challenge the way you speak to your servants."

He sucked in a breath, fingers curling into his hand. "Is that what pushed you?"

"No, but it was a nice reminder that I should watch my tongue." She smoothed the edges of her voice so that there was nothing he could find fault in. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you. The embarrassment. I've made you look foolish to the very men I've been trying to force into respecting you. I've undone your hard work."

"Tell me why you were gone, Amon. Give me something I can say to them about all of this." His nails bit into palm to distract him from the anxiety of this docile change in her. "Give me an explanation I can feed them about why you were running through the territory unchecked."

"I just need a day to organize a full report. I'll give you all your answers, sire." Amon promised quietly. "I know you don't have any reason to trust me on this, but I promise my reasons were compelling. Is that permissible?"

"Yes." Hiei's ribcage burned, his chest on fire with the strain of his painful emotions.

"Thank you." She nodded without meeting his eyes.

"Amon." He called her name, rising from his chair to approach her bedside. "Call me by my name."

"I'm sorry sire, but I cannot." There was an emotion in her eyes that threatened to spill over her lashes. "I can't do it. Not right now."

"Okay." He nodded and the door to the room opened, a doctor walking in and instantly going still as Hiei whipped his attention over with a furious glare. He loosened himself, stepping away from Amon's side to march to the door. It wasn't fair to use the doctor as an outlet for his anger, but it didn't stop him from hotly demanding, "Remove her restraints and release her." He paused on the threshold, looking over his shoulder to the woman avoiding his attention, "Amon, see me directly once you've finished your report."

"As you command, sire."

He had to work every muscle in his body to avoid slamming the door behind him.

"Do you want something for the pain? Or to speed up your healing?" The doctor asked, working the locks open to free Amon's limbs. She rubbed her wrists, rolling them.

"No. They need to see me injured. It'll quell some of their anger if they think the king hurt me." Amon shook her head.

"Did he?" The question came quietly and with some heat. "You've done a lot for him."

"I don't think so." She studied the wall again. "But for now let them think he did."

"You'll have a nasty mark on the big day." He pursed his lips, and she glanced over his expression. "I'll give you something you can take with you. If you want to use it you can, and if not, it's no loss."

"Thank you, that'll work." She nodded.

* * *

Covered in sweat, sore, stuck in his thoughts Hiei returned to his room so early in the morning he was sure he'd be alone. It was passed his usual midnight wakeup. The hall was dark, and so was his room when he pushed open the door. He noticed the tray of food and tea first, placed on the table. Then he caught sight of Amon moving in the shadows. She paused in the face of his entrance. He assessed the bandages wound around her forehead. Neither of them spoke for a moment.

"How long have you been here?" Hiei wondered, touching the teapot. It had lost all it's warmth.

"Not very long. I waited for you but you didn't come so I left. I only just returned to put your clothes away. Everything fell behind in my absence." She ran her fingers over the hung garment thrown over her arm waiting to be placed where it was meant to be.

Hiei had never really thought about the fact that his clothes were always where they were meant to be. Amon set his outfits out for him generally, but she must put them away too. There were small details that grew larger the more he focused on them when it came to everything Amon did for him. All the effort she put into her work.

"You could have turned on a light." He reminded her. "You don't have to work in the dark."

"It's late. I figured if you were ready to sleep the light might bother you and keep you awake. I see perfectly fine in the dark as it is." She hung the piece of clothing in the closet then she hung the next one that had been resting underneath on her arm. "I'll be out of your way in just a moment."

"That's an awful of lot of laundry considering what I went through when you were gone." Hiei approached cautiously.

Why was he tiptoeing around her? Why was he so scared of getting close? Amon didn't recoil from him but his stomach still twisted.

"It is." She agreed quietly, once again fingering the threads of one of the items she'd put away. Dropping her hand she offered the slightest shake of her head. "They're the clothes I had commissioned for you. You wouldn't attend the fitting so I gave your measurements to the seamstress with some specifications."

"I told you I didn't want new clothes." Hiei was back to being put out. "Again with doing whatever you want, Amon-"

"That's why I'm putting them away." She cut him off gently, not looking at him directly. "I requested them before I spoke to you. They've been in the works for a few weeks, actually. The fitting was just meant to finalize details. It doesn't matter now. I just couldn't bring myself to discard them."

"Weeks?" Hiei asked, glancing at the closet.

"Good work takes time and I wanted the best." She sighed and closed the closet doors.

He hadn't realized she'd put so much time and effort into it. "Amon, I-"

"They're your clothes, sire. You can burn them if you want. I just needed to put them away for my own selfish satisfaction. I pushed them to the back though so you won't have to see them."

"I can wear them." He stated quietly. "You put time into getting them made."

"It's better if you don't." Her words hit him in his already churning stomach. "If you show up to your meetings in new clothes they'll know it was my influence. You've endured enough of their talk. Besides, there's nothing wrong with the way you dress now."

"What changed your mind?" He wondered.

"I have to work on that report. My goal is to present it to you by the afternoon, preferably before the lunch meeting. I'm not sure I'll have the appropriate amount of time after, but I'll carve some out before." She deftly skirted around him to make her way to the table where she picked up the tray. "Do you want fresh tea?"

"No." He squinted at her. "What lunch meeting?"

"You have a schedule lunch with some dignitaries from other lands. This isn't new, sire. I told you about this weeks ago. You agreed to it." She watched him carefully for a reaction.

"I don't recall that." Hiei frowned at her.

"It was after a sparring session. I told you that it would be best for you to attempt some diplomatic relationships and we decided that a lunch would be the easiest way. The guests will stay in the castle for a few days to see how you've changed Alaric for the better." Amon wet her lips. "I cannot cancel this late, sir. Most of the guests are already in transit."

He vaguely recalled the conversation she referenced but he still didn't like it. "Fine."

They stood in silence for a second.

"How is your head?" Hiei asked, taking a step toward her. "You're wearing bandages. Is it not healing?"

"It's only been a few hours." She reminded him.

"Those doctors are useless. I'm firing all of them." Hiei groused, crossing his arms over his chest. "How hard is it to heal a cut?"

"I'm an uncooperative patient, it's not their fault. You're not the only one I frustrate endlessly."

Hiei tensed at the declaration. Amon seemed to sense that her words were hitting a raw spot because she quickly looked down to the tray.

"I'll wake you in the morning." She told him and before he could argue she was gone out of the room.

"It's not always a bad frustration." Hiei told her lingering presence since she wasn't there to listen. "I just don't know what to do with you sometimes."

No one answered him but shadows and he sighed, shaking his head.

Why now?

Why had he let this happen now of all times?

Why today of all days?

They were in the darkest, earliest hours of the first anniversary of Mukuro's death. One year. One year without her. Nearly one year with Amon. And he felt like he was back to where he started this mess of a journey.

Alone.


	17. Apricate

_**A/N: So one of my writing resolutions for 2020 is to update each of my stories at least once a month and to treat writing as more fun and less job. With that in mind, here**_ _ **'s to having a productive 2020, and my first update of the year! Thank you all for reading 3. I love hearing from you all.**_

* * *

"This place looks different." Yusuke did a slow turn in the street to assess all the dangling lanterns and decorations going in the heart of Alaric. Demons bustled around, lining the street with stalls. There was nonstop talk between citizens. "When this guy said festival I didn't think he was being literal."

"It's coming together nicely." Kurama nodded, smiling. "Alaric looks like it's fairing rather well, actually."

"So, we're supposed to meet Shorty at the castle?" Kuwabara asked them, sidestepping to avoid getting whacked by the tail of a reptilian looking demon.

"Yeah, that's the plan." Yusuke grinned. "About time too. He's been ignoring all of our letters ever since he became the big cheese. It's about time he got off his ass and invited us to see him."

Kurama kept his mouth on that topic because he wasn't sure Hiei had been the one to invite them at all. All the letters had been signed by someone with the initials A.S. As happy as he was to see his friend again he was actually wondering what their welcome would be like. Hiei had been so adamant when he sent them away. He'd been torn and devastated and an island standing alone in a tumultuous sea. He was relieved to see that this festival seemed to be going to plan. It already felt warm and inviting.

A far cry different than funeral they'd attended their visit to Alaric.

"Oh shit, I love this stuff." Yusuke rushed over to a stall and held up a bag of some substance that made Kuwabara gag.

Kurama watched them, rubbing the back of his neck with a shallow laugh. Some things never changed. "Yusuke, we're going to be late. The invitation said we were meant to arrive for lunch."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Hiei won't care if we're fashionably late." Yusuke waved him off. "We have some time to sightsee."

Kuwabara made a face and nudged Kurama with his elbow. Then they shared a laugh. "We should just leave him here."

"That's definitely an idea." Kurama agreed.

"Don't even think about it losers." Yusuke pointed at them both.

* * *

Amon looked at the clock, counting the seconds as they ticked past. Her black suit, white shirt and plain black vest were enough of an outfit for the time being. Anything more and the king would get suspicious. It was almost time to meet with him. She'd been able to avoid giving her report through the morning, deftly evading sitting down with him for breakfast. In fact she hadn't seen him since rousing him from sleep.

She was on thin ice.

This had to go perfectly.

"Benji, do you remember what to do?" She glanced at her young assistant.

He looked smashing in his fitted uniform of black slacks, crimson vest over his white shirt, his black jacket embroidered with shining scarlet and lavender threads in the design of dragons racing up both sleeves. He, like her, wore gloves though his were white. His new shoes were shined so well they reflected the lights. The curls which usually ran rampant on his head were tamed for the moment.

With a nod he told her yes.

"Lunch is on track. Don't forget we have a human visiting. Do not act starstruck. We have to pretend we're accustomed to all visitors. It'll be rude otherwise and these are not men we can afford to offend." She reminded, again.

"Maybe I'm not ready for this." Benji looked green in the face as though he might be sick.

"You are." Amon assured him. "They'll come in, you'll greet them and-"

"And I show them to their rooms on the second floor. You've already set up each one especially for each of their needs." Benji recanted. "I inform them what time lunch will be served and encourage them to be in the dining hall on time."

"You've got this." She exhaled and looked at the clock again. "Okay kid. It's showtime. I'm going to go distract the king."

"Be careful." Benji pleaded with her quietly.

Amon offered him a single nod, a smile and then tussled his hair before moving to start her part in this. The dominoes were all set up to fall, all she had to do was flick the first one.

Her gloved knuckles rapped gently against the wood of the king's office door knowing that's where he was meant to be. He called for her to enter and she did so fluidly. Then promptly stilled.

Hiei stood leaning against his desk in the clothes she had delicately hid in the back of his wardrobe. Black slacks perfectly tailored to fit him like a dream. Dress shoes, shined like she'd done it herself. A double-breasted vest made of crimson silk decorated with glistening dark threads in the dramatic shapes of intertwined dragons hugged the shape his chest and waist while accentuating his broad shoulders. Buttons ran down both sides of the vest, silver and gleaming, stamped with the seal of Alaric. His white bandana had been replaced with one the same shade as his vest. It flattered his eyes and his body and for a moment she was too busy admiring her handiwork to remember why she'd come to see him. The combination of colors made his tanned skin radiant. The collared shirt had the top button undone, revealing the hollow of his throat but nothing more. Even his white bandages seemed to perfectly fit into the ensemble.

She didn't realize she'd been staring, repeatedly scanning over him from head to toe to head.

The shoulders of the shirt sat exactly right, perfectly where they were meant to be. She'd measured him correctly. Oh, the amount of times she'd had to allow him to toss her down, to grab her so she could grab him back as though she had to hold him to maintain balance. The vest tightened perfectly at the waist. The pants tapered just right at the ankle.

Hiei fought back a smirk, enjoying the fact her attention hadn't strayed from him. She'd slid him his meal and then vanished that morning. No contact longer than necessary, never within arm's reach, never met his gaze. It was an awful spell she'd fallen under.

It seemed he'd found the key to breaking it.

Amon shook herself and then blinked at him. "Are they comfortable?"

"Very. I'm pleasantly surprised." He nodded once. "You have good taste and a keen eye. I can feel your touch in every stitch."

His smirk made her eyes dart to the side.

"Your generals will think-" She immediately began to hedge then stopped herself, swallowing the rest of her argument. If he'd already made up his mind there she had no place in trying to change it. Her eyes closed as she kept them averted.

That's not what he kept her around for.

She needed to remember to be grateful that she was there at all.

"My generals know that I've chosen to dress up for our company, so that I can represent our land well." Hiei explained to her. His gaze glanced over her still wrapped forehead, squinting at the patch of red marring the gauze. "Which is why I want you to take care of that gash. I can't have other leaders thinking I just let my staff walk around in such a state. Your injury was the talk of the table this morning at my meeting."

"Of course, sir. I'll have it fixed immediately. I'm sorry it caused any trouble." She bowed her head, reaching up to pull her bangs down to cover the wound better. At least it had been seen by the right people.

He waited another beat before cocking a single brow, hands moving to hold the edge of his desk. She was still being timid, distant. He didn't like it. Leaning back slightly he asked, "Does it live up to your desires?"

"What?" Amon blinked rapidly, frowning as she carefully shifted her eyes back to him.

"The outfit. Does it suit me how you hoped?" Hiei asked her seriously, chin tipped down. "Anything I should change about it before I make a fool of myself? This outfit of yours will be the first thing of me most of these fools see. You need to make sure I'm presentable."

"No. You look perfect." She assured him softly her frown fading into a warm smile. "Everyone is going to clamor over themselves to get close to you, as it should be. No one will even notice something like my head wound when they have you to look upon."

He'd hoped, actually, that she'd object to his undone button and lack of tie. He had one ready. He didn't know how to tie it, but she did and if she wanted him to wear it he'd make her tie it for him. On him. Anything to draw her close. Instead she kept her distance, but she did glance at his face. That was enough for him for the moment.

"Are you ready to tell me about what you've been up to?" He changed the subject swiftly, arms crossing over his chest. The stern set of his mouth had her shifting, eyes darting away again. He gestured to a tall stack of papers on his desk knowing the movement would catch her attention. "I have about twenty different accounts of your movements so I already know where you've been. I also know you were having me sign allocation forms you had no business drafting. You are not an adviser nor in my cabinet, Amon."

 _Maybe I should be._ She challenged in her head before immediately closing her eyes and settling herself with a long exhale. She gathered herself.

"Explain. Now." He pressed. "This lunch you've planned is drawing closer and you're not using it as an excuse to avoid this. So either speak or make us both late."

"Everything I've done, has been done for you." Amon began quietly. "I need you to know that before anything else. My actions are only intended to better your life. That being said, yes, I did have you sign papers for the dispersement of supplies. I crossed the land to make sure they were received properly and so that everyone would know you sent them."

"But I didn't. You did." Hiei pointed out. "You're fabricating a false image of me. You're overstepping your role to do so."

"You would have sent them if you'd had time to make the choice." She told him, steadfast. She didn't want to see his face so she kept her eyes on his shoes. "If you knew the plight of your people I believe you would help them. Unless I'm wrong?"

Hiei thought about it for a moment. "If I knew how to, then I would try."

"Well, I do know how. I know what they need." She promised. "So I had you sign the papers and I made sure those necessities were delivered."

"That still doesn't excuse you." Hiei told her, agitation entering his tone. "Amon, you should have brought this up to me and allowed me to make my own decisions. This is my kingdom, they are my people, and therefore everything that happens here is my responsibility. Your guidance is well and good, but you are acting well outside of your station. I am justified in my frustration and anger with you. In fact, I'd be justified in a lot worse."

"You are." She nodded. "I know I've tested your patience and your trust."

"Was it worth it?" When he asked her the grit in his voice made her flinch.

"I thought it would be." She breathed, desperately hoping she was right. "I…I had to go to each of the cities. It wasn't just to make sure the supplies were delivered."

"There's more to this?" Hiei's eyes flashed wide. "Amon, what have you done now?"

Amon nodded, spreading her feet a little and crossing her arms behind her back to appear bigger than she felt. Despite her stance she still couldn't bring herself to meet his unrelenting gaze even though she felt the pressure of it on her face. "The truth was that I needed to meet with the leaders of the cities and villages."

"Why?" Hiei stepped away from the desk toward her.

"I had a question I needed them to answer." She planted her feet even though she wanted to flee. It took effort to keep herself from shriveling up.

"All of them?"

"Yes." Her nod came before she wet her lips nervously. "It was a very important question."

"Keep talking." Hiei stopped an arm's length before her, tipping his chin back so he could stare at her face. His tone remained a little hard despite his curiosity.

"I want everyone to see you the way I do, as the king, as a man." She explained to him holding her nearly military grade stance as she spoke, an act he saw through when she refused to look at his face. "I want you to see it too. I want you to see how your people view you, and I want your people to have the right image in their minds. It's taken me months to get it all organized and it's been a nightmare trying to work around you and your schedule."

"That tells me nothing." Hiei's eyes narrowed on her.

"I know." She chewed her lips before continuing. "I know that today is the anniversary of King Mukuro's death. She meant a great deal to you and I wanted the people to remember her. I wanted you to be able to honor her in an appropriate way, something befitting a king. For both of you."

"Amon, what have you done?" He demanded.

"I've brought people from all corners of Alaric together to celebrate her and _you_." Amon didn't smile as she scoured his face finally, a tightness pinching at the corners of her eyes. The words lost their strength. "All the leaders of the cities, merchants, traders, everyone. They'll be here for a festival the likes of which this territory has never seen before and they will be celebrating all the kings, old and new. They'll be celebrating _both of you_."

Hiei stared at her, mouth falling open and he wasn't sure if it was in horror or shock.

"It'll be a week long." She continued when he didn't speak. "I wanted you to know that you haven't been mourning alone. These people, they've come here to honor her as well."

"A festival?" Hiei repeated dully.

"Yes."

"For Mukuro." He continued and she said yes again. "A woman you never even met."

"In all honesty, I never heard a good thing about her. But if you respected her so much, if you miss her so deeply she had to be great. So yes, for a woman I've never met." Amon agreed. "But also a woman you knew better than anyone else."

"I don't know how I feel about this." He admitted, starting to pace. "I do not like the idea that you did all of this behind my back."

"It's a gift. I didn't want to tell you until it was ready." If she'd gotten any quieter he wouldn't have heard her at all.

"You have completely overstepped yourself in so many ways here." Hiei shot her a look of reproach. "I can't even begin to count the ways, actually. First, you go and you bring on an apprentice so you can duck your duties. I find out you've been hiring and firing cooks with more frequency than you change your clothes. You're traipsing around my lands without checking in. You're not even bothering to request leave or explain your absences ahead of time. You're orchestrating large scale events without telling me. I am catching shit from all sides because you just do whatever you want. And they're not wrong, Amon. They aren't."

She went quiet and Hiei worried he might push her back into an episode so he calmed his tone.

"Amon, I need more to work with than a party." He finished, deflated.

"Understood but please, at least give it a chance to be a success sire." She begged him finally. " _Please_."

 _Please, sir, please._ Hiei felt bile rising in his throat and he had to swallow the bitterness down.

"You are to check in with me every day from now on, Amon. Every. Day. You will detail my schedule and then you will detail yours so I know what you are up to. And you will not lie to me. I don't want you to lie to me." He let his arms fall to his sides as he stared at her. "You are not to commit to staff changes without consulting me. If you need time off, you will tell me in advance and you will tell me why, where you are planning on going, and when you intend to be back. This is my castle and my kingdom and you are not the one who gets to run either."

Despite his demands and his tone, she offered him a small smile. "Be careful sire, you're beginning to sound like a king."

He shifted his attention away to digest that statement.

"Lunch will be served soon, I'd like to change to be more presentable." She requested timidly. "May I be dismissed?"

"Yes." Hiei squinted at his thoughts before rolling his attention back to her. "Fix your head. If those bandages aren't off by lunch every goddamn dignitary in this place will see you dragged from the hall by your scruff so that I can personally throw you back into a hospital bed until a doctor clears you. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir. I understand."

* * *

The castle was abuzz with noise and chatter when the three men crossed into the main hall. Kurama looked around with eyebrows high on his forehead. Yusuke let out a loud, long whistle and then laughed brightly. Kuwabara nodded his dumbstruck agreement.

"Place has cleaned up nice." The carrot top admitted.

"Don't mess this up." A small voice earned their attention, causing them to assess a young demon near them. Dressed to the nines the child couldn't have been older than fourteen. His curly green hair framed his face, highlighting his bright, large eyes. His rabbit ears went from drooping to standing up, one twisting toward them. Then he straightened and brought a white gloved hand to his mouth, coughing lightly. Shaking into himself he flashed them all a cheerful smile.

"Thank you for coming to Alaric. My name is Benji, I'm here to see you to your rooms." He gestured with one hand to the staircase on the far side of the room. "Your luggage will be taken up for you."

"Benji?" Kurama looked to the other two. "Apologies. We've been in contact with someone whose initials are A.S. on behalf of Hiei."

"King Hiei." Benji bobbed his head in correction. "Yes. You probably spoke to Amon."

"Amon?" Yusuke raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Benji explained. "Amon serves the king."

"Okay kid, that's cool. But we sort of came to see our friend so." Yusuke went to move around Benji who squeaked and then dodged to stop him. "Hey."

"I am sorry but my orders were pretty clear. This is my first really important thing to do." Benji swallowed. "Can you please let me show you to your rooms so I can tell you when lunch is? Amon didn't say anything about letting you find any friends."

"Yusuke, let's humor him." Kurama suggested with a warm smile. "He's trying to do his job."

"Alright fine, but when we're done you're going to tell us where the shrimp is hiding." Yusuke squinted at the boy.

Large eyes darted to the side in thought and then, very carefully, Benji responded. "We keep all the food in the kitchen. I can bring you some if you want."

Kuwabara laughed before bringing a large palm down against Benji's crown, ruffling his carefully tamed curls. "This kid is hilarious. I like him already."

"You're the human." Benji breathed out, starry eyed. "You're bigger than I thought you'd be. I thought humans were small."

"Not this giant." Yusuke frowned at his tall friend. "You never seen a human before, huh?"

"Oh no." Benji grimaced, fidgeting. "I wasn't supposed to say that. I'm supposed to act like I've seen a million. It's rude otherwise. Can't be rude to the king's guests. Just, take them to their rooms on the second floor and inform them what time lunch will be. That's all."

He sunk in his shoulders under their scrutiny.

"If Amon asks about this please don't say how excited I got." He begged them.

"This Amon must one hell of a scary guy." Yusuke made a face. "Bullying a kid like this. Show me to him, kid. I'll set him straight."

Benji stared at him for a moment then couldn't help but giggle. "I'm sorry Mr. Urameshi, but I wouldn't put my money on you."

Kurama pulled back and shot Kuwabara a look, humor lacing the curve of his lips as Yusuke fussed about how no one could beat him. The commotion earned a few glances and whispers and then a voice calmly broke through the noise.

"I thought you were going to assist our guests to their rooms, Benji."

The three men and teenage boy all turned and looked to the staircase where Amon had stopped midway down. Her hair was pulled away from her face by three braids on either side of her head which met in the back to form a thick plait which hung down her back. Her high-collared crimson shirt bore only one long-sleeve that cuffed at the wrist, the other sleeve missing to reveal her arm covered in tattoos from shoulder to wrist. Both of her hands were shielded by black leather gloves. Over her shirt lay a collar of chainmail against her throat at least three inches tall. The shirt was tucked into high-waisted black pants that flattered her waist and hips in a way her normal clothing did not. She began to walk down the stairs and when she stepped to the ground they could all see that her pants were tucked into knee high black boots.

Benji's eyes lit up for a moment before he twitched and started to fidget under her gaze. "I tried really hard but they weren't listening."

"Your job is to politely _make_ them listen. You can't force them, of course, but you can persuade. I heard you try, you did very well. I should have warned you that they were the king's personal friends. Naturally they'd have to be a little strong-willed." She stopped in front of him and then wrinkled her nose. "You've somehow managed to upset your collar. How did you do that? It's half up and half down."

She smoothed it out and then tugged on his jacket for him.

"I'm sorry, you are?" Kurama interrupted.

Blue eyes blinked as Amon turned to look him in the eye. "How rude of me, my apologies." She swept into a deep bow, one hand on her stomach and the other at her side before she rose. "I am Amon, the king's personal attendant. I believe we were writing to one another."

"Wait, _you_ _'re_ Amon?" Yusuke demanded. He turned to Benji. "This is the guy you're afraid of? The one you think could beat me?"

"Benji!" Amon admonished quickly.

"I didn't say that!" He defended. "I said I wouldn't put my money on Mr. Urameshi winning against you, that's all. And I never said I was scared of you Miss Amon. I just didn't want to mess this up. It's really important."

"It is. This has to go well." Amon agreed, pursing her lips before releasing any sign of disturbance. She turned her attention back to their guests. "I know that you are here to see the king, but that time is not yet here so if you would please follow my apprentice to your rooms I'd be grateful. The king will be joining us for lunch shortly. It won't be formal so feel free to wear what you'd like. I've crafted a special menu that I hope will be to your tastes."

"Yeah, so the big guy-" Yusuke thumbed toward Kuwabara who had clammed up at Amon's entrance.

"Naturally, I have taken into consideration the health and well-being of our human guest. It's an honor to meet you Mr. Kuwabara." She bowed again. "I've selected a particular menu just for you. We imported some exquisite selections of human world cuisine for you to enjoy. I've also taken the precaution of placing several air purifying plants in your room and throughout the castle to be sure the environment is as hospitable as possible. If you need anything do not hesitate to summon myself or Benji and we will resolve any issues promptly."

"She set up all your rooms herself so they're extra nice. Amon is the best at what she does." Benji boasted, earning a sigh from the woman's lips. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Amon told him but she sounded mildly strained. "Benji, please take our guests to their rooms. I have to go and double check some details." She smiled at the men but none of them missed the implicit demand in her soft tone. "I'm certain these gentleman are ready to follow you now."

She walked away toward the kitchen with a quick nod of her head and Benji hurriedly went for the stairs, ushering everyone to follow him. As they ascended to the second floor Kuwabara nudged Kurama.

" _That_ _'s_ Hiei's assistant? I thought it was a dude." He kept his voice low. "I didn't expect _that_."

"Neither did I." Kurama admitted. "This will be interesting to see."

"You guys talking about the fact that Hiei is holed up in a castle with a hot redhead?" Yusuke dropped back to mutter with them. "Because I'm beginning to see why he hasn't felt the need to reach out, y'know? Did you see that chick?"

"Don't call her a chick, you're not twelve." Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "That was a woman."

"Oh great, you're back on your bullshit. That's nice." Yusuke joked.

"Shut up."

* * *

Amon paced outside the banquet hall doors, having closed them behind her after she initiated lunch. The guests had gotten a little restless waiting for the chair at the head of the table to be filled so she'd made up an excuse for the king's tardiness and ordered the appetizers to be served. Her pulse hammered under her skin, sweat forming on the back of her neck. She tried to get her breathing under control.

What if he hated it?

What if he didn't show up?

What if this was her last act as his assistant and it was a total failure and therefore so was she, despite her best efforts to make this all work and to do something nice?

"You look ill."

Amon jumped at the sound of the king's voice near her. He reached for her head and she stepped back without thinking, offering a soft but heartfelt, "No!"

His hand paused in the air, eyes pinching. Slowly he lowered the appendage. His eyes swept over her, head to toe and a new kind of anxiety grew in her stomach. What if he hated the way she looked? He'd suggested he'd like to see her in something more feminine before. This was a fair compromise she thought. The way he took in her tattoos made her want to hide her skin but she didn't. It was the slow raking of his eyes over the details that made her scared. What was he seeing?

He'd never forbidden her from altering her appearance, but were tattoos too much?

"I can change." She blurted out. "If this isn't appropriate attire, I can change back into-"

"You fixed your head." Hiei moved his attention to her head. There was a faint white line where the gash had been. "Finally."

Was that all he had to say about anything? A comment about her head? Nothing about her clothing? About the pristine state of the castle? He'd never seen her like this before, did he simply not care? Was his opinion so harsh he felt it better not to speak where guests could hear? She should change.

This had to go smoothly.

It had to.

She needed it to.

"You told me to." She reminded him, shoulders sinking slightly. "You commanded me to."

"Still, it's nice to know you listened." He shrugged. Then he assessed her again.

She waited for him to comment on her outfit, her hair, anything that she had changed about herself. He didn't.

"What's it look like in there?" He asked instead, nodding to the doors.

"It's all going to plan." She nodded, trying to settle herself. Still, her tongue wet her lips and she had to breathe out slowly. "They're waiting for you."

"I've only entertained visitors from one region at a time so far." He reminded her brusquely. "Now I have an entire world to greet. I can't say I'm a fan of the feeling."

She hadn't even thought of it that way. "Do you want me to introduce you?"

"No, that seems pretentious even to me." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm just going to go in, take my seat and eat. This is my home, I shouldn't be made to feel strange in it for someone else's comfort."

He pushed open the doors and marched to his seat at the head of the table but paused when everyone got to their feet.

"Sit down." He demanded, rolling his eyes. They all listened and he wondered if he could wield that power for evil. Amon closed the doors quietly, nodding to a member of the serving staff to offer him some appetizers.

The room was filled with faces, most of them familiar only in the way that one recognizes those they see infrequently through no special circumstance. Mukuro had met with some of these people. Or she'd surveiled them. No one of much consequence in his opinion. Until a voice froze him in place, his eyes wide and breath a hiss.

"You're twenty minutes late for your own lunch, _Your Highness_." Yusuke grumbled from his seat. "What sort of bullshit power move is that?"

Hiei was on his feet in a blur, his chair hitting the ground behind him as he pinned Yusuke with his glare. "What the _fuck_ are you doing here?"

"We came to see you. Duh." Yusuke offered in return, nonplussed about the vehement attitude he was receiving.

Amon sucked in a breathe, mouth opening slightly. With a quick motion she signaled for the waitstaff to serve the next course but kept her eyes on the king. When a server moved toward him she shook her head just barely. No. She'd handle that.

"Sire." Amon approached him cautiously. "They're your guests."

"How?" He growled at her, seething. "How are they here?"

"Please calm down." She urged him quietly. "Sir, you're not under attack."

"I might as well be." He lowered his voice to match hers, though his radiated hostility. "What are they doing here, Amon?"

"They came to see you. Celebrate you." She held his eyes with her own. Even if she'd wanted to shout she'd have been unable as her throat constricted.

"No." He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"I thought so." Kurama muttered to his friends. "He didn't invite us. She did."

"Well good, someone should've." Yusuke declared with a huff.

"You?" Hiei spun around to face Amon who skittered back. "How did you even know where to find them?"

"Sir, I-"

"I cut them out for a reason, Amon. I don't need them here! I didn't want them here!" His voice raised and then he let out a breathe and closed his eyes. "What would possess you to do this?"

"I did it because," she had to fight to stay firm in her stance because what she wanted to do was apologize. But she couldn't, "sire, they are here for you in ways I cannot be. Please. They care about you. Let them be here for you."

"No." Hiei told her hotly. "No. No. _No_."

"Well." Amon swallowed and smoothed her hands over her clothes in a show of bravado she did not actually feel. Finally, even though she trembled slightly she looked him in the eyes. "They are not leaving, sir."

"Then I will." Hiei yanked the doors open and slammed them shut behind him. The sound echoed in the hall and through the banquet room.

Amon closed her eyes, held up her gloved hand and kept herself as steady as she could. "Main course was due on plates three minutes ago. We aren't running a self-serve kitchen."

The staff jumped into action at the sound of her voice.

Her head felt light, her body weak. Blinking she fought back the wave of exhaustion that tried to beat at her. She didn't have time for that. She had a lunch to run. Shakily, she lifted her hand to her face for a moment then dropped it and squared herself. Turning to face the murmuring sea of faces who had all seen the king's emotional meltdown she offered a measured smile.

It was time to do some damage control.

* * *

Hiei stormed out of the castle without even thinking of where he might be going. Usually he would head underground into the caverns to let out his anger in a tangible way. Yusuke and the others would expect that from him, they'd look there first. He didn't want to encounter them. So he headed through the gates and onto the street. A few demons scurried away from his glower but he ignored them as he always did.

He didn't have a choice, actually, he had to ignore them because he was too engrossed in examining the change the city had undergone.

The streets were lined with vendors, full of people in all states of dress. Lanterns were strung from roof to roof, trails of them crossing the street. He bet that once night fell they'd bathe the entire city in a warm glow. It would be such an unusual sight.

A festival, the likes of which the territory had never seen.

Hiei began to walk again his anger moving to make room for curiosity as he trailed through the streets to study the different vendors. To make note of all the faces. Voices spoke happily around him, everyone eager for the celebration to begin. People talked of Mukuro and her reign. They talked of him, and how he'd changed things.

It wasn't him, he wanted to shout. It was all Amon. This was all her doing, her fault, her accomplishment. He kept himself quiet. In the city center he stopped, eyes glued to the looming statue of his predecessor, a bronze sculpture eerie for it's likeness that had been raised without his knowledge. Like Mukuro, it was larger than life. All around the statue's base and gathered over those metallic slippered feet sat offerings and flowers.

From all the others who remembered her.

His chest felt tight as he raised his attention to the sculpture's face. Seeing it reminded him of her being gone, but also of her being there. Of the last time he saw those eyes, that hair. Of how she always ruined his mood with her teasing.

"I hope you're proud of yourself." He muttered to her, furious at the fact his anger was ebbing away so steadily.

Amon had done this. All of it. She'd made this stupid statue, she'd organized this whole affair, and for what? So he wouldn't be alone? So the entire damn land would have to suffer with him? She'd invited the people he wanted to see the least so they'd be there to see him weak again. He could practically feel Yusuke's hand on his shoulder. The memory felt so real he shrugged away from the phantom touch. His fury collapsed inward as he realized he'd missed that idiot too.

Amon had no right to do this to him.

And yet, he couldn't help but appreciate all of the effort this must have taken. Everything around him sang of her precision and care.

He hadn't asked for this.

He'd never be able to repay her.

* * *

The kitchen remained quiet in the wake of the lunch as Amon scrutinized everyone present. It wasn't just the cooks, but the entire staff. Everyone who had served the food, who had made it, who had scrubbed the floors and set up the rooms. Her eyes bounced from face to face. Then she wet her lips so she could begin talking.

"You all did amazingly. Thank you. I could see your hard work in every aspect of the food, the serving. Without you this would have been a disaster. I know I am often unbearable, but please know that I do appreciate you. This is a token of my thanks. This week will be hard for us all, demanding, but I know we'll all rise to the occasion." She told them all before nodding to Benji to begin passing out small envelopes to each person. "This castle is carried on all of our backs, but yours most of all. I do see that. Despite my tantrums and my controlling nature, I really do see."

"Amon, did the king permit this?" Marielle asked, wide dark raising from the money she found inside the envelope.

"No. This isn't from him. It's from me. My savings. I wanted to show my personal appreciation." She explained. "As a thank you. I don't need his permission for this."

"Amon-" She shook her head then looked around at all the surprised faces surrounding her. "This is too much. This generosity shouldn't come from you."

"And yet it has." Amon smiled at her but it lacked focus. "Please continue to work hard, everyone. If you have any questions find me and I'll direct you as best as possible."

She offered another wan flash of a smile then turned to leave. Benji called for her, clutching a final envelope. "You made too many, Miss Amon."

"No, that one is for you." She assured him then left him to dwell with the others. Her feet steered her to a quiet room that went unused a floor above. She didn't have time to stop and rest, but she could at least catch her breath and close her eyes for just a few moments.

It had been a long sleepless few weeks running through the final details. She just had to get through this week and then she could get back to her schedule.

Just one week.

She'd held out for longer.

When she left the room to go about making sure the dinner preparations were underway Marielle came over with a plate of food, trying to shove it into her hands.

"I'm too busy, I don't have time to eat right now." Amon shook her head, gently pushing the plate back. "Thank you for your consideration all the same."

"Amon, no one saw you eat during the lunch. Or during the staff lunches before or after." Marielle frowned at her. "You haven't been joining the king for meals either."

"I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate?" She pressed. "Someone said you looked unsteady earlier."

"I don't have time for that right now. I have to keep this festival on track. I have to organize the meals, the guests, the events. I have to keep the king from exploding on his friends." Amon closed her eyes as stress stabbed her as a sharp pain in the side of the head. "I have a lot to do."

"You need to take a break and take care of yourself." Marielle protested. "You're going to run yourself into an early grave."

"I'm fine." Amon repeated. "Marielle you are very sweet, but you do not have to worry about me. You do not have to force some value onto my life all of the sudden."

"What?"

"This is all I am. It's what I'm good at." Amon stressed to her. "I can't survive out there anymore, Marielle. I can't. This has to go well. If it doesn't, if I am forced to leave… This is the only home I have. I have nowhere else to go."

"Amon, I don't think that will happen."

"Without this job I am nothing. I might as well be sent back to the gallows." Amon inhaled sharply, exhaled then got to her feet. "I have to get back to work." She straightened herself and her clothes. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just a little stressed. Everything will be fine as long as I can make everything go as planned."

* * *

Hiei tried to slink back into the castle unnoticed but he made it no farther than the first flight of stairs before a voice called him out.

"Done with your bullshit tantrum?" Yusuke wondered dully.

Hiei spun around to face him, fists at his sides. Yusuke regarded him with his arms crossed over his chest. For a moment they just stood staring at one another.

"It's nice to know that being a king hasn't made you outgrow being a complete asshole when you're angry." The other announced. "You made quite an impression earlier today. You should have seen that girl trying to cover for you. She's a straight up miracle worker."

"What girl?" Hiei demanded hotly. "I didn't ask anyone to cover for me."

"You know, the red head. Amon."

"What the hell has she done now?" Hiei rolled his eyes shaking his head.

"She made everyone think you were less than a total dick. You should pay her more." Yusuke informed him with a snort.

"You should leave." Red eyes narrowed on him. "I didn't ask you to come here. I never would have. I don't want you idiots here in my halls with your stupid notions that we're friends. I don't need you here."

"She seemed to think differently." Yusuke rolled his eyes then. "Kurama was right, there's not going to be any talking to you until you decide to talk but we both know that you'll never want to talk, Hiei. You've never been the one to reach out. I'm not going to stop trying to help you."

"What's the fucking point?" Hiei demanded taking a few steps forward. "What can you possibly help me with? You can't bring Mukuro back. You can't make a good king. You can't save me from this bullshit existence. You need to face the fact that you're useless in this situation. You have nothing to offer that I can't do myself."

"You're right. I can't do any of those things. All I can do is be there for you. Be the voice of reason."

"I don't care about-"

"I can be the voice that asks if you're really the kind of guy who shouts at a woman in front of like, fifty people, all because she tried to help you." Yusuke stepped toward Hiei gesturing. "Because that was sure as hell not a classy thing to do."

"Amon doesn't need you mounting her defense." Hiei stopped, nostrils flaring. "She doesn't need your help anymore than I do."

"She needs someone's because she was obviously terrified of you." Yusuke's accusation hit him right in the raw spot of Amon's episode.

"No she isn't." Hiei growled. Kurama and Kuwabara crept out of their rooms at the sound of voices, eyes taking in the scene without interjecting. "Amon isn't scared of me. She has no reason to be."

"She fucking flinched when you yelled dude. She was shaking. Did you really not see that?" Those brown eyes drove a spike into Hiei's resolve. "Talk of the town is that you beat the shit out of her the other day."

"No. They're wrong." Hiei shook his head vehemently. "I have never struck Amon in anger. We spar. I would never put my hands on her otherwise."

"Feeling defensive?" Yusuke squinted.

"You cannot come into _my home_ and accuse me of battering my staff." Hiei hissed. " _You have no right_."

It took a second, but he gathered his temper and pushed it down. Hiei closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I don't owe you an explanation." He finally decided.

"She let us know you were doing well." Kurama's voice rose from behind Yusuke. "When she wrote to Yusuke the first time. She made sure to tell us that you were okay, as though she knew how worried we were about you. I thought was odd at the time, but after meeting her I think it's fitting. You would have never told a proxy to inform us of your well being. She just knew that we'd want to hear it."

Hiei studied him for a moment, then looked toward the stairs. "Yeah, well, Amon is good at that sort of thing. Reading people."

"I know you don't want us here." Yusuke relented, softening after Kurama's intrusion. "But look, I'm glad we came. I just wanted to see you with my own eyes, y'know?"

"I suppose I might understand the urge." Hiei admitted. "It's still idiotic. I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"You weren't." Kuwabara reminded gently.

"It's not unusual." Hiei grumbled. "To be less than okay when someone you know dies."

"That's true." Kurama smiled. "All things considered I actually think you've handled things quite well."

"Did Amon feed you that line?" Hiei snorted, rolling his eyes. "Because I definitely wasn't handling things well at first."

"No, she hasn't really spoken with us outside of our arrival. She did make quite the impression though." Kurama admitted. "She seems dedicated."

"And hot." Yusuke nodded then wiggled his eyebrows at Hiei. "I didn't expect that. Did you ask for a headshot before hiring her or what?"

"Amon was brought here because I got bored and sentimental one day, not because of her looks. She didn't even look like a woman at the time. I certainly didn't know she would be so efficient." Hiei glared. "She's good at what she does, so she stays."

"We'd like to stay, Hiei. To see this week through. Even if you don't want us spending it with you it's still quite the privilege to be here." Kurama spoke up again. "And if you decide you do want to see us, we're here."

"Yeah, honestly who even cares if we hang out? This place is amazing. Never seen anything like it." Kuwabara's comment earned a chuckle from Kurama. "I'm glad this is my first real dip into Demon World."

Hiei nodded, his thoughts roaming away from the conversation before snapping back when Yusuke put a hand on his shoulder.

"You look good by the way." He complimented with a quick nod.

"Thanks." Hiei accepted, offering nothing else as they filtered back to their rooms. He was left with the strangest sense of relief and loss. He was full of contradictions it seemed. With less rage he went back to climbing the stairs. He wanted to find Amon to talk about all of this. Yusuke's words irked him because they were correct. He had made a fool of Amon in front of everyone, and she had been skittish in reaction. Small. Quiet. Not like herself.

Her episode was still too fresh to him and the fear that he'd drive her into another clawed at his mind.

He would find her and discuss this. Resolve it.

* * *

Hiei found Amon on the roof, sitting on the edge with one leg dangling over, the other knee pulled up acting as a rest for her arm while she studied the scene beyond. The red glow of the sundown had been replaced with golden light, the lanterns strung throughout the city streets painting everything a soft, warm shade. She didn't immediately react to his presence so he walked over to her, coming to sit at her side.

"Marielle didn't know where you were." He began. "I had to hunt for you."

"I suppose I did make myself difficult to find." Amon's cool voice came to him. "A moment of guilty pleasure, unfortunately. I just wanted to see what it looked like from up here."

Hiei nodded and traced the skyline with his eyes. Silence lapsed between them. He decided then was the best moment to breach the subject he held tightly in his chest. He wanted to try to do this in a way that led to the least damage as possible. It seemed like there had already been so much in recent weeks.

"You shouldn't have sprung them on me." Hiei told her quietly. "You wouldn't want me doing this to you. You wouldn't be happy if I dropped you into a room full of people from your past."

"Everyone from my past wants me dead." She told him, withdrawn. "It would be a reprieve to be reunited with them at the moment."

"I don't like when you talk like that." He warned.

"Then I fear I have nothing to say that you'd like to hear as I'm feeling rather melancholic at the moment."

Hiei stared at the side of her face for a few seconds before realizing she wasn't going to look at him. "Which form did I sign giving you the funds to give the staff a bonus?"

"You didn't sign anything." She assured him, eyes on the warm glow of the festivities below. "I paid them out of my own pocket."

"What?" The word fell so quickly and violently from his mouth that she was forced to close her eyes again. He pulled himself back. "What do you mean? How could you afford to do that?"

"You pay me handsomely. Far more than I'm worth, in all honesty. My needs are minimal here. I'm sitting atop a small fortune."

"Why would you just give it away?"

"Because they all worked so hard on this." She sighed, deflating, and she didn't seem to gain anything back after she released the breath. "They did an amazing job. Everything was perfect. I wanted them to know that I appreciated it, that I saw their hard work. I'm hard on the staff, my standards are high and exacting but they outdid me. I'm proud of them."

Hiei waited a few minutes, feeling the gap between them growing farther and deeper than it had ever been before. Finally, he looked over the horizon too. "The city looks nice. I know that wasn't all you, but you inspired it. I've never seen it so full of light."

"They're happy." She told him distantly. "It's a lovely thing to be apart of."

"Are you?" He asked quietly.

"On the edges, I am." Amon agreed. "Only on the edges."

"No, I mean, are you happy?" He amended his question.

"I knew what you meant." She glanced at his face and then got to her feet. "There's work to do."

His hand reached out and took hold of hers while he remained seated, forcing her to hunch over or pry herself from his grip. Her eyes trailed to his, finding his expression caught and open in a way she'd never seen before. The glow of golden light colored his face like a soft sunset might. It meant the shadows were deeper where they lay but they didn't seem quite so important right then. She forgot to move as she looked into his crimson eyes.

"Seeing them," he explained and had to fight the words because they didn't want to come, "seeing them is hard for me, Amon. They were there, at the end. With me. I don't like what they saw."

She didn't speak.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you, especially in front of a room full of others. I should have pulled you aside." He went on in the best way of apologizing that he knew. His grip on her hand tightened. "I was startled."

"You don't owe me an apology." She told him calmly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me."

He studied her face, squinting slightly as she pulled her hand free. She reversed their grips so that his hand was carefully held in her own. Her lips brushed his knuckles and it sent a jolt through his entire frame.

"Apologizing to the staff makes you look weak." She dropped his hand and pulled away. Her voice hadn't changed, it remained quiet but removed. A chasm he desperately wanted to cross. "Don't want to give your visitors the wrong impression, m'lord."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He shot to his feet and was in front of the door leading down to the roof access stairs, blocking her escape route. "I'm trying to apologize to you!"

"To what end?" She wondered. "Sire, you are a king. My feelings, my work should mean nothing to you unless it is wrong and causes you some sort of problem. I should be invisible. A shadow always there but never noticed. That is my role and I have not been sticking to it."

"Obviously, because if you were my shadow I wouldn't have to search for you." He narrowed his eyes.

"Sire." Amon stepped back from him, a careful head shake moving her hair. "I do not want this. I do not want your apology, it only confuses me. It's unnecessary."

"Well, I want to give it." He challenged. "I want to tell you that I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I want to tell you that I feel guilty for it. That I appreciate what you were trying to do, but my god did you go about it the wrong way. I understand, Amon. I wouldn't have said yes. And fine, maybe it's good those three idots are here, okay? But it should have been my choice to see them again. Not yours."

Amon swallowed, scouring him and his reaction. The way he blocked her path with his body, thrusting himself into her way once again.

"What were you thinking?" He demanded, urging her to answer him.

Amon rolled her lips and reached into her pocket, pulling out a worn letter. She unfolded it and read over the words one last time before handing it to him. Hiei accepted it cautiously, refusing to move too far away from the door lest she trick him and try to run for it.

"I was thinking that you deserved to be happy." She told him, her voice watery. "I was so overwhelmed with the love in that letter I couldn't stop thinking about it. Those men, they care about you. Truly, deeply. I just wanted you to have that. To feel it. To see it. I just wanted you to be happy."

"You got that from this?" He gestured with the letter. "This is just Yusuke being his usual, dumb, obnoxious self."

"Maybe." She nodded. "Or it could be the most recent in a string of letters he never stopped sending even though you never answered. Letters that kept coming to let you know they would always come. That he was there for you even when you didn't want him. That he was just a few pen strokes away."

"You see too deeply into things."

"No, you saw it too. That's why you didn't destroy it like the others." Her calling him out made him go still, lifting his eyes to meet her exhausted gaze with some sense of fear that she knew. She _knew_. "I'm your shadow, sire. I see far more than you realize I do."

"I didn't want them here."

"I know."

"You invited them anyway."

"I'm not sorry." She assured him. "Sire, if I died tomorrow you could replace me in a week, a month tops. You'd get another completely capable servant who memorized your schedule, your likes, your dislikes, one who was far more obedient than I am. One your generals never had to question."

"No." He protested.

His chest emptied of air as gloved fingers brushed down his cheek to come under his chin, forcing him to look up into eyes so blue, so shadowed in the darkness with the light behind Amon's body, that they looked empty and black. He hadn't seen her move. Hadn't heard her.

"You could." She promised. "But you cannot replace those men. You've been trying to, but nothing fits. So I am not sorry for inviting them in your name."

He wanted to lean into her touch but stopped himself. This was the closest they'd been in what felt like ages. He hadn't realized how important her proximity to him had grown. Instead he let his eyes open, knew they glowed like embers as they bore into hers.

"Sometimes I hate you for the way you see through me." He informed her gruffly.

"More often than that I assuredly deserve it." She nodded.

"You've been acting off since you woke up in the hospital," he accused. "This didn't help. You're so far away, Amon. I can hear it in your voice. You're going to go back to that dream where you think I want to hurt you."

"I won't."

"You can't control it." He reminded her.

"Neither can you."

"No but I can watch." He argued. "I don't want you wandering the halls like a phantom, losing yourself to horrid memories. You need to be where I can watch you."

"I don't understand." Amon blinked, retracting.

"You'll sleep in my room tonight so I can watch over you." He demanded. "I'll sleep in the window. It's fine. I just don't want anything happening to you."

His words drove a spike of heat through her heart, parting her lips as the sweet, searing pain of it forced the breath from her lungs. "That doesn't seem necessary."

"It is not up to you to decide what is necessary when I've just commanded you to do something." Hiei informed her, working his voice to be a little harsh. "I can't have you slipping into some damn dream when you've got so much to do. I sure as hell can't have you beating someone to death when we're surrounded by dignitaries."

"I shouldn't have protested." She averted her attention from his ferocious gaze. Her touch dropped away. "You're right, it's not for me to decide. I'll be in your room tonight, as you've commanded. May I attend to some other matters first? This event requires my constant attention."

"Fine." He moved out of her way, the letter crinkling as he balled his fingers into a first.

"Thank you." She bowed her head shallowly and then disappeared through the door.

Hiei stayed behind, confused at his own actions. He had no idea what the hell he was trying to do, much less how to proceed. Demanding Amon sleep in his room was foolish at best. The talk would be insufferable tomorrow. He just…he just needed to be sure she was alright. That's all it was. She couldn't function if she went into a fit and he was the only one who had been there for both so he was the resident expert.

He'd keep her grounded.

At least, he'd try.


	18. Obsequious

_**A/N: I got overly excited and decided to write out another chapter! Look at me. Doing things.**_

* * *

Amon held the morning's menu in her hand, scouring the kitchen and pantry to be sure everything was in order. Once she was certain she'd set up the staff for a successful, timely feast, she moved on to her next agenda item. She'd taken a circuitous route to the kitchen so she could pass her approval over the state of the castle, only having to stop twice to fix minor details. The maids had all been divided up between floors so they were dedicated to one or two guests at a time. Everyone had their specific responsibilities, their designated areas and it seemed to be going well. The work would be less overwhelming this way.

Each member of the staff had been given a copy of her detailed, thorough notes on their guests. Known likes, dislikes, behaviors to watch for, ways to circumvent tempers. Everything Amon in her arsenal had been passed on.

This was important to her. It needed to go to plan.

But that did not mean she was about to let any visiting caravan of royal fools bring harm to the workers who made the castle run like clockwork. They could take their rage out on her if need be but they would _not_ hassle her staff.

Curtly, in her mind, she reminded herself that it wasn't her staff but the king's. It didn't quell her sense of pride for them or dwindle her feelings of responsibility. The king may own the building, may have the power, but without her none of this would be possible. He'd said so himself before, hadn't he? That when she wasn't there it all went to hell.

The kettle whistled on the stove and she immediately removed it, pouring the steaming contents into the pot she'd prepared on a serving tray.

There was the matter of the king to be dealt with.

Why had he asked her to sleep in his room?

She was fine. There was nothing he could do to help her. She didn't even understand why her fit had bothered him so much. He had made such a point of drilling into her that he had better things to do than concern himself with her, that she had been demanding too much of his energy, that she was causing too much trouble. Why then, was he so horrified? Why was he so determined to watch over her when it strained him so?

Pressure behind her eyes caused her to pause in her evening preparations to contend with yet another exhaustion routed headache. Marielle was right, she did need to take care of herself at some point. It just didn't feel like priority.

She'd taken a few minutes to slip into one of her suits, also gathering some clothing appropriate for sleeping. She'd change in the king's room, if he allowed it. While she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of being forced to sleep where he could watch over her, she wasn't in a position to deny him. It was frustrating. She'd been counting on using the quiet hours of the night to get work done that would be near impossible during the day. It wouldn't do to have their guests aware of the cleaning, the laundry, the day to day minutia.

Amon knew she'd find a way, she just wished she didn't have to constantly circumvent the easiest paths.

Grabbing the tray and the simple bag containing her clothes, she made her way to the king's chambers.

* * *

"Sire." Amon knocked on the door before coming in. It was out of the norm, she didn't know why she'd done it. She'd never really bothered announcing herself before.

Everything about this day was off-center.

The king sat at the table in his room, leaning back in his chair as he studied the map sprawled before him. Colorful pins decorated the surface, papers were strewn about the surface in loose, haphazard stacks. One hand held his chin, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. His left hand rested near a pile of pins, one caught between his fingers as he mindlessly toyed with it.

Crimson eyes did not stray from their work when she entered, no greeting rising to meet her.

Amon wondered if he'd changed his mind. He looked incredibly thoughtful, maybe she should leave him be. She set the tray of tea and light snacks on the far end of the table to prevent interrupting, pouring a cup quietly.

"You were right." He didn't look at her when he spoke, eyes instead narrowing on the heads of the pins piercing the parchment of the map.

"Given my lapses of judgment as of late I'm inclined to doubt that." She offered in response, moving to his side to offer him the warm cup.

"Where's yours?" His eyes swept over her hands then to the tray.

"I didn't bring one for myself." She hesitated after telling him, brow furrowing.

With a barely noticeable head shake he rolled his eyes away from her before focusing once again in the map. "You changed your clothes back. I assumed your outfit earlier was the start of a new effort in your appearance."

Amon straightened some as she held back on the sudden rush of annoyance at him that flooded through her. She made no attempt to take a seat as she might've normally done. Carefully she arranged her sentence to be as respectful as possible.

"You didn't seem impressed with the change." She informed him, her lips pressing together when he raised one eyebrow without looking at her. Then he hummed.

"I didn't like the collar. Perhaps that's what you sensed." He sipped on his tea with the casual statement. "I figured you'd spent enough time wearing them in your life, it was surprising to see another on you, especially by your own designation."

Amon squinted. The king was being unusually pensive and reserved. She wasn't sure she enjoyed it, in fact she knew she didn't. It made him hard to read.

"What are you working on?" She asked him to steer the conversation away from herself.

"Why did you wear the collar?" His question held no edge, but also no curiosity. There was a demand in the words that hadn't been in his tone.

She exhaled softly, looking over the map and then around the room. "Your room is in a state. I thought I asked someone to clean it."

"I don't let anyone else in here." He told her easily. "Don't ignore me. I asked you a question."

"It was simple a decoration."

"I told you not to lie to me." His eyes finally slid to her, the sheer amount of ferocity in his gaze enough to make her hold her breathe. Nothing about his posture changed. But his eyes told her enough. There was something under the surface he was controlling and she needed to make sure it stayed that way. "I barely tolerate it from everyone else. You do not have their privilege in this."

"It's a statement." She changed her answer.

"About your servitude." He stated it as fact. "You want these strangers to believe you are nothing more than a, what? A slave?"

"Not a slave." She denied the accusation. "I want them to know that I have autonomy to an extent."

"If not a slave then what?" His tone changed slightly, turned pointed. "You want them to think I make you walk around like a dog? Wearing a collar?"

"No, not that." She pressed her lips together. "Sire, it's not that."

"You didn't put anyone else in a collar."

"You're correct. And I won't."

"Amon." Her name dropped his lips like a warning. She thought she should heed it for once.

"I wore it because I wanted them to know that my station, my service is different from everyone else's. The rest of the staff belong to the castle. I belong to you." She stared at him. "I serve only you."

His fingers curled against the tabletop as his eyes searched her face. He didn't let his thoughts show. She wished he did.

Hiei could see the plea in her eyes for him to say something, to show her something she could decipher but he would not. Not in this matter. Her words coiled through him not like a snake but like the tension in a spring before it snapped.

Him.

Only him.

 _His_.

He regarded her for a moment before looking away, glaring at the table for something to do. "Fine."

"Fine?" She asked quietly.

"You can keep the damn collar." He cut a look her way before once again looking over the map.

"You don't need to concern yourself with it. If you don't like it then I will throw it away. Besides, it doesn't match my suits. None of them do." She made a small motion with her shoulders as though she was fighting the urge to shrug.

Hiei whipped around to stare at her again, eyebrow raised. "Any of them? There are more?"

"Your attire is not the only thing I've been cultivating for weeks." She swallowed then shook her head. It didn't matter.

Her suits were well enough.

"If you made yourself clothes then wear them." His tone said he didn't understand why this was an issue. "Even if they include collars."

She didn't have the energy to explain that if he didn't approve then it didn't matter. It was more important that she dress to his expectation this week. When she showed no sign of accepting his offer he pursed his lips.

Hiei studied her. Amon looked disappointed. This wasn't what he wanted from this night.

He didn't know what he wanted, actually, but this was definitely not it.

"I thought you looked powerful." He told her, hoping to lure her out of her mood. "It was a pleasant change. Were the situation different I might have been intimidated to speak to you."

"I cannot imagine anyone intimidating you." She told him without a smile. "You do not need to console me, sire. Your energy is better dedicated to your work."

"How is it that you demand me show kindness every other breath but when I attempt to show it to you all I receive is you continuously denying me and undermining the attempts?" His dull demand came with an equally dull expression.

"I want you to show kindness to your people and your staff. They deserve it." She informed him, the curtness of her tone slipping in without her meaning to allow it.

"Oh, but you don't?" He tipped his head to the side. Excitement lit up in him at the look of annoyance that had passed over her face. That was better. That was Amon. "You who works tirelessly to try to meet my every need?"

"Did you call me in here just to berate me for trying to do my job?" She demanded hotly. "Because if so I could just as well give you a list to run down to get it out of the way."

Hiei straightened in his chair, eyebrows raising. Her eyes widened and she parted her lips before her lids shuttered over her eyes.

"I'm sorry. That was out of line." She touched her face. "I…I don't know what came over me. There's no excuse."

He was so close to having her back, he though. She was on the cusp of being herself again. He wanted to push her over the edge. He missed her frank words and her self-assured attitude. He missed her approaching him as though she could not be rejected.

"Do you remember the conversations we had a while ago? When I told you that I wouldn't be attending the fitting you'd arranged? Just before you decided to run off?" He asked her quietly, once again playing with a pin. He tested the sharp point against the calloused pad of his finger. The skin was too thick to worry about piercing from such little pressure.

Amon was a little bit like that, wasn't she?

He just needed to press harder to jab through her thick walls if he wanted to strike into the true her.

"Of course." She nodded.

He nodded and said nothing else on the matter. That was the Amon he wanted to speak to her but he didn't know how to tell her that. When his silence permeated their conversation she shifted. He didn't know why she hadn't sat down by now but he didn't want to demand it of her. He shouldn't blame her for having her walls up after what he'd to her. It was perfectly acceptable for her to hold him accountable for driving her into that terrible dream where the only wakeup call she could fathom was the violence that had been tattooed into her skin.

"It's a map of Alaric's resources." Hiei told her, gesturing before him. "Each color represents a different material. You were right, we're not allocating what we have in any way that makes sense. I'm parsing through reports to try to come up with a long-term plan. I want to create a store here in the capitol for emergencies, but other than that we should have more than enough to see every region capable of prosperity."

She walked closer to him, surveying his work. Her hand rested on the table near his as she leaned forward. "You were able to do this in such little time?"

"Imagine what could have been accomplished if someone had come to me and made me aware instead of taking it upon themselves to do my job." He looked up at her face. "I'm not as useless as you may think I am."

"I have never thought you were useless." She assured him, still focused on the map. "Just the opposite. I think you're criminally under-utilizing yourself."

"You still fancy me a good king?" He asked her, watching her expression from the safety of his position outside her current field of attention. Crimson eyes went back to studying the map along with her, trying to parse out a plan.

"Without reservation." She promised, her eyes dipping down to her hand.

The king's pinkie overlapped her first finger. It was a subtle thing and when she stole a glance at him, his chin once again held in his palm as his fingers fanned over the bottom half of his face while he lost himself in his thought, she got the distinct impression that it was an action he wasn't even aware of committing. Taking a breath she readied herself for and admission she hoped might balance things out for a while.

"I'm sorry for not coming to you." She told him gently. "I should have. I suppose I just…I suppose I thought I was being helpful. Taking something from you that you might not want to deal with. There's no real logic behind it I'm realizing. There's nothing there to suggest that's the truth. I just-I wanted to help."

"Well, you managed that much. Because of you a lot of citizens are going to get some much needed support." He retracted his hand so he could push it through his hair. "I have a list of discussions we need to have, Amon. I just don't know if you're ready to address them. Every time I talk to you I get filled with this dread that I'm going to put you back in that place."

"I know I say this frequently but you really shouldn't cause yourself such anguish over me. You don't need to." She finally lowered herself into a chair. "It doesn't make sense for you to do this to yourself."

"Tell me what happened." His command came out quiet, followed by a swallow she could trace with her eyes.

She closed her eyes and looked away, the small amount of balance she'd tried to offer then dissolving under his question. "It's not important. Really, sire. Can we just move on from this?"

"No. I can't. I can't because I had to watch you bash your face off the floor of my office. I can't because you begged me to hurt you and it made my skin crawl. So no, Amon, we cannot move on." He stared at her, pushing himself back in his seat. "You have a scar because of this."

"I have scars for many reasons. Most of then Greyfield." She reminded him. "This one is just the most recent. It's a nonevent to me."

"It's an event to me." He told her firmly, unblinking. "I tried to reach you, you know. With my Jagan. I tried to get through your dream and pull you back but I couldn't. When you were in that state you were so far away," he closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose letting it out from his parted lips, "it was like being trapped in static. There was nothing to you."

She didn't know what to say to him. She hadn't realized he had tried so hard to pull her out of it.

"I wasn't able to bring you back." His eyes moved from her face to look around the room. "I was able to, the first time. With Yashishi. I was the one who woke you up. I couldn't this time. I'm not used to failing at things."

Amon looked at her gloved hands, studying the seams. "Out of hand."

"What?" he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"That's what you said to me that started it. It wasn't you yelling. Or you being angry. It was that you described me as getting out of hand." She continued to look at her hands, chewing on the words before she was able to speak them. "Greyfield told me that frequently. In fact I don't think I was ever in hand for him. No matter what I did, he was always going to find a reason to," she stopped talking for a second, "anyway. Whenever I was _out of hand_ he found a way to correct me shortly. I didn't realize hearing the phrase would have so much power over me. I thought I'd be stronger by now."

"I'm not like him." Hiei's words nearly strangled him as it came out because he wasn't even sure they were true.

Yusuke had said she'd been terrified of him. He'd been right. What did that mean?

"No, you're not." She nodded. "Which is why I hate it so much that I did this to you. I disappointed you and all I wanted was to make you happy. I can't even do that right. I've always pushed boundaries, even as a slave. You know, more than once, I actually did deserve what he did to me." Her voice grew watery. "I don't deserve to be here with you. I keep trying to be better but all I do is take and and take and take and make everything worse for you."

"That's not true." Hiei shook his head.

"Anyone could do what I do for you." She bit her lip as she looked at her hands. "You telling me I was getting out of hand hit me so hard because it's true. I've been ungrateful for everything you've given me."

"I haven't given you anything." Hiei furrowed his brow, swallowing, severely uncomfortable with the fact she wouldn't look at him when it was obvious she was in so much pain.

"You've given me everything." She finally raised her face to meet his gaze, wet lines trailing down her cheeks from her teary eyes. Her lip trembled as she stared at him.

Hiei pushed out of his chair to cross the few steps between them, his hands coming to rest on either side of her face. He held her head so she was forced to keep looking at him. His breath was jagged, uncontrolled. He did not want to see her like this.

"I get frustrated with your games, Amon. With how you let others belittle you. You can be conniving, underhanded and yes, you do take advantage and cross boundaries. And that is why no one could replace what you do for me. These other cowards would be doormats and I cannot abide it. If I wanted someone to nod along with me, I'd ask my questions of a mirror. I need you to contradict me, to throw down gauntlets with generals, to make everyone in this kingdom shake at the sound of your footsteps. Your stubborn, self-assured nature is one of the things I like best about you. That fire in your eyes you get when you're biting your tongue." He told her firmly. "I like you best when the gloves come off, Amon."

"I'm confused." She swallowed, making no effort to free herself of his hold. "You were so angry with me for not coming to you. For making you look foolish. I cannot be both."

"You can be." He promised her. "We already talked about this. Out there, for them, be whatever the hell you think you need to be. I hate it but fine. But in here, with me, you are to be honest. When it's you and me, Amon, we are equals."

"I cannot do that." She trembled, a look of fear entering her eyes. "I can't pretend to be your equal."

"Then you'll learn how to." He assured her with all the seriousness in the world. "You were fine with it before."

"We were never equals, I just grew too comfortable."

"I will not tolerate you shrinking yourself in my presence anymore, Amon."

"Sir, I-"

"Call me by my name." He ordered her a new heat lighting him from the inside with every new demand he made. "I will not answer to anything else from you in private anymore."

"You can't be serious." She whispered. "These demands are above me."

"Then rise to meet them."

"You're asking too much." Her voice grew smaller. "You're asking too much of me on the heels of-"

He bent closer to her, head tipping to the side slightly as he refused to let her hide from his gaze. "You're the one who said you wanted to flaunt your station, Amon. You're the one who said that you serve only me. Belong to me. That comes at a price. And that price is that you have to deal with me and my demands."

His right hand trailed down from the side of her face, his fingers grazing her jaw, brushing over the front of her throat as he allowed his palm to rest on her collarbone. Her tears had dried in her eyes, her lips parting while she suffered his penetrating stare. She'd stopped shaking. He couldn't help the smirk that slipped over his mouth, satisfaction curling through him.

"As you command, si-" he raised his eyebrows so she amended herself quickly, "Hiei."

"Good." He released her, pulling away. "Get your sleep Amon, you've had a hard few days. You need the rest. I'm sure this festival is demanding much of your energy."

"It is." She nodded.

Hiei gestured to the bed pointedly. She hesitated then nodded, rising to her feet. She went and picked up her bag of clothes, directing herself to the bathroom. When she returned, she was wearing a loose long sleeve shirt and baggy training pants, her hair pulled from it's ties to cloud around her in the waves her braids had created. He immediately regretted asking her to sleep where he could watch over. This was an accidental torture of his own creation.

She looked strangely touchable.

"I can sleep on the floor." She told him, glancing to the bed. "I feel uncomfortable taking over your bed."

"No."

"Fine. But I'm not going to sleep well." She informed him with a sigh.

That proved to be a lie, Hiei determined quickly. She fell asleep within minutes of laying her head against the pillows. It made him wonder when she'd last given herself any decent rest. His shoulders felt lighter after their conversation, the weight of her submission taken off of him. It made sleeping easier for him as well when he let his head lean against the cool glass of the window.

* * *

Hiei looked through the closet, laying out selections from what Amon had had tailored for him. He didn't know what he should wear for the day. She was in the bathroom taking advantage of his herbal bath which is where she'd been since before he'd woken up. He wasn't sure if she even knew he was in the room getting ready or not. He'd certainly made no move to interrupt her.

Staring at the clothes he wondered why she had such an obsession with crimson and lilac. The white and black made sense to him, it's what she always wore and it's what he tended to wear. But what the hell was the lilac about? He traced the white buttons on a light purple dress shirt, lips pursed. Naturally he'd be wearing black pants again. There was no question about it. But what other pairing should he make? The tunic? A shirt and vest? The high collared jacket? Why had Amon chosen such ridiculously complicated outfits?

A sound of anger and alarm from the bathroom made him grin to himself. It seemed Amon had finally stumbled across his handiwork.

"There is a thief in the building. Some daring magpie." She came out of the bathroom with wild eyes and wet hair, her sleep clothes clinging to her damp skin. Her annoyance shone in that cobalt like the fire he did so adore.

"A magpie?" He wondered thoughtfully, his back to her after he glimpsed her expression. He went back to organizing his wardrobe.

"Someone stole the buttons off my suit jacket!" She informed his angrily. "Right beneath my nose! And my shirt! Those buttons are missing as well. I am furious."

"Oh. That." Hiei nodded. "That wasn't a magpie."

She marched over to him. "I would like an explanation."

"I took them." He smirked at her. "I'll give them back at the end of the week." He tossed his head back and forth as he considered his words. "Maybe. I do hate that suit, actually."

"Why would you do that?" She demanded, doing her best to work her words to be less than outright hostile.

"So you'll wear your new clothes." He told her as though it was obvious. "If I have to dress up so do you."

"Suits are technically dress attire."

"I just said I don't like the suits."

"You were fine with them before." She reminded tersely.

"That is true." He agreed, back to studying his choices for his own outfit. "But that was before yesterday. I realized after you went to sleep that perhaps you'd been seeking some stamp of approval from me and I didn't give you one. Consider this my approval."

"Traditionally, when one wants to communicate something they use this ingenious invention called language. They do not steal buttons off expensive suits." She tightened her jaw as she spoke.

"I saw how much you paid, Amon. They were not expensive." He tossed her a look. "Stop worrying about your suits and help me get dressed."

"Where are the buttons?"

"I told you, I'll give them back later."

"You said maybe."

"And I meant it." He flashed her a grin, then swept his eyes over her. "Don't you want to show off those new tattoos of yours? You were brandishing them about like a weapon yesterday."

"They are art, not a weapon." She argued quietly, but her attention had strayed to the articles of clothing on the bed. "None of this will do."

She went to his closet and began pulling more from it than he'd even realized was there. Holding each piece up she studied them silently, putting some away before even truly considering them. Looking up the ceiling she made some mental calculation while he watched. Then she nodded and handed him a pair of crimson pants and a tunic. The tunic had an open, raised collar of black with sleeves and side panels to match. Once again crimson dragons twined up the sleeves, embroidered with elaborate detail. The two white front pieces were joined together by crimson buttons running down both sides connected by ties of red the same color as the pants and dragons.

"You'll wear the tall black boots with the straps and we will cinch your sword to your side using a crimson sash. You will look quite dashing." She nodded. "Handsome, but also formidable. Now, as for your schedule today. You have a few meetings with dignitaries more or less to acknowledge they exist. Alaric is growing prosperous and therefore more lands will want to establish favorable connections with you. You do not owe them anything but please attempt to remain open to the possibility of alliances."

"We don't need alliances. Alaric has always been able to stand on it's own. We're completely self-sufficient." Hiei told her as he stripped his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. "I don't want to pretend to care what these people think."

"That's all well and good, but you don't have a choice. It's either make friends or enemies and you don't have time for a war." She studied his chest for a moment before once again focusing on his face. "Neutrality is an option, but you can't be neutral if you are rude."

He rolled his eyes, undoing the tie to his pants. "Convoluted. Who cares if we wage war? We have the strongest army in the world."

"And what then? You conquer a new land and then must fold them into the one you already command. That's hundreds of thousands more demons to feed, protect. Larger borders to manage. It's a waste of resources." She argued, averting her face as he pushed his pants down his hips and legs to step into the ones she had set out. "I could have left you for a moment so you could change."

"You've had a few hundred conversations with me while I've been nude in bed, Amon. You know I don't sleep with clothes on. This is no different." He told her even though he knew that it definitely was different.

He just wanted to tease her. Maybe see her blush.

"You're covered in bed." She reminded him. "It's not like I peel back the blanket to gawk at you."

"You don't?" He feigned surprise.

"You woke up in good spirits." She glanced at him to be sure it was safe to turn toward him again. He chuckled as he tied his new pants closed.

"Our conversation lifted a weight off me." He informed her, sliding his arms through the sleeves of the tunic.

"Let me do that." She muttered, pushing his hands away as he messed up looping the ties around the buttons. "Well, I'm glad you're able to feel more like yourself. It wouldn't do to have you so distraught during a week of celebration."

"I notice you didn't detail your day." Hiei's verbal nudging was received with a blink.

"There's so much." She admitted. "I have to be sure that breakfast is underway and served. I want to be sure the laundry is on time. Then there is the lunch preparations. Benji will be assisting me in dispensing orders. I told the staff and your personal guests to come to me if anything arises so there's always the chance I'll be consumed by those requests. Now I also need to go and get dressed, do my hair in someway that's professional. There are some vendors I agreed to inspect. The dining hall needs to be decorated for dinner. I wasn't able to do the cleaning of the east wing last night like I'd intended so that likely needs to be done."

Hiei raised his eyebrows. "And when, during all of this, are you finding time to accompany me to these meetings?"

Her mouth fell open and then winced.

"Ah. So you weren't." He deduced. "That's unfortunate."

"It's temporary for this week." She assured him. "Everything gets back on track after this is all done."

"No, I mean it's unfortunate for your to-do list. You're coming with me. Look the part Amon, I want everyone who sees you to know that even Alaric's servants are capable of destroying them." He nodded and then brushed his hands down his shirtfront, turning to inspect himself in the mirror. He caught her agape stare in the reflection. "Better hurry and get ready, breakfast will be in less than an hour, right?"

"Yes." She agreed. Then closed her eyes. "Sire, every detail of this event is incredibly important it is necessary that I be available to organize-"

He continued to study himself before blinking and looking at her over his shoulder. "Were you speaking to me? I'm sorry. I couldn't hear you because you didn't address me."

Her expression flattened.

"Hiei." She spoke, sighing. "Be reasonable."

"I've never been reasonable and I don't intend to change that now." He smirked at her. "Get dressed Amon. I want to see which of your collars I'll hate today. It'll give me something to dwell on while I'm ignoring literally everyone who tries to speak to me today."

"I'll bring my notebook so I can fill you in after." She agreed, annoyed.

"Good. I'll see you at breakfast." He nodded and walked around her. "Don't be late. I don't want you making me look bad."

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"There's something I need to find."


	19. Oriflamme

_**A/N: Sorry for the delay folks, I have been incapacitated by a stack of a totes full of glass at work which screwed up my shoulder for several weeks. I'm still in recovery but I am back to full duty and writing at my desk no longer hurts so bad I could cry so I've been able to finish this chapter! enjoy! I've been having a good time putting tension into this story and I hope you guys like it too because it's not going anywhere lmao, sorry kids, time to suffer with me.**_

* * *

The city hummed with delight around Hiei as he strolled through the crowds gathered in the market. There were far more vendors and booths than had ever been there before. So much life surrounded him he was almost at a loss for words on how to describe it to himself. His lips quirked up, threatening to reveal a smile.

Amon had outdone herself, even if it had been behind his back and beyond her station.

He came to a stop at the one shop he always visited on his outings. Looking over the wares laid out he took his time studying each item with absolute attention. This had to be perfect. It had to be exactly right. He wouldn't accept anything less.

Amon had placed herself in the signs of bondage as a statement of how willingly she'd tied herself to him, to his image and his being. Her dedication was a collar around her throat for the world to see. That was well enough, if he had to allow it which it seemed he did. Though, he had his own ideas for showing their guests what Amon was to him. How important her position, how prestigious. Even she didn't seem to fully grasp it. There was one thing, one mark, that would say more than he was capable.

The one thing Amon never asked for.

The one thing no one had ever given her.

The one thing he would provide that would shock her and everyone around them.

"This one." He held the item in his hand, judging the weight. "I need this one."

* * *

Amon kept her chin parallel to the ground as she walked, her footsteps silent against the stone floors, but still the world could hear her coming. Shoulders down and back, she opened the door to the dining hall. The staff had all already passed her inspection, everyone in shining uniforms of black, white and crimson. The room smelled of cooked meat and savory treats sure to surpass anyone's expectations. Alaric wasn't known for it's food but that didn't mean they shouldn't try. The king had beat her to breakfast, seating himself at the head of the table looking bored as he regarded the filling seats.

The twinkling of metal colliding with metal earned his attention as she strolled to his side with purpose, depositing his plate in front of him.

With a quick scan he assessed her appearance and gave her the exact reaction she'd hoped for. A sharp look of reproach, eyes lacking amusement. Under his breath he addressed her. "Really?"

"You don't approve? I can change." She held his gaze, daring him to ask it of her. She watched him do another sweep, his eyes heavy against her skin where it could be seen. "You did tell me to wear one of my new outfits, sire."

"Interesting gauntlet to throw down, Amon." His quiet tone promised that this would not be the end of their conversation. Then he allowed her to see the barest glimpse of humor as it struck him. With warmth he told her, "I do like that hairstyle."

He watched her lips form a line as he touched on the one area of her appearance she had obviously not had time to fully craft. Her hair was a wild mess of red strands barely contained in a hopeless thick braid. It added an element of wild spirit to her otherwise coiffed display. Her shirt was similar to his, though sleeveless with no collar. Hers was darker in color as well, no panels of white. Just black punctuated by blazing scarlet that glittered like her eyes, and probably his too in the moment. She wore leather pants just as he did, again hers were black, and they held a little more tightly to her figure than his did. Her boots came up to her thighs, folding over where they rested so high on her legs. His cuffed below his knees. In bright, vivid color her tattoos revealed themselves above the short glove on her right hand. Her left arm was covered from fingertips to bicep by another glove. It was a suitable outfit, though he wished she'd take that damn long glove off. What was the point of wearing a sleeveless shirt only to cover all the skin it exposed?

Her accessories made his fingers tighten with the urge to remove them from her person. Just the sight of them irritated him in a way he hadn't fully expected.

Amon stilled as he brushed his fingertips over the collar circling her throat. Two inches tall, silver so finely polished he could see himself in the gleaming surface. There was nothing to interrupt the metal band before it clasped against her nape. At the base of the collar were six strands of wheat-link style chains that ran from the silver on either side of her neck down to matching armlets that encased the meat of her arm just above her bicep. Similar bands trapped her wrists, though no chains bound those together. She'd heavily abused his approval for the accessory by making it infinitely worse.

She lifted her chin ever so slightly in defiance of what she knew he was thinking. It carved his mouth into a particularly harsh line whenever he was determining when to forbid her from something. It was not a subtle expression, but it was fleeting.

"I need to speak with you privately before the first meeting of the day. It is important, do not evade me." He demanded moving to stare into her eyes.

"As you command." She answered with a nod. "I've re-situated my schedule so that I will be able to accompany you as you requested. I've shifted some of my duties back a few hours, so once your meetings are over I will need to tend to these other matters."

She rose and the sound of the chains colliding with one another made his teeth grind which she noticed. She stepped away from him to gesture to the other staff to begin serving their guests. Amon lingered to the side, close enough to beckon if the king needed her but far enough away to provide some necessary space between them. Their brief conversation had already caught the attention of a few of their visitors.

She kept her smile hidden behind a neutral mask, her eyes scanning the table repeatedly taking note of all the faces she only knew from pictures in her research, and of all the faces she knew from personal experience. Her scars itched as though were fresh while she glanced over this den of beasts, each one regarding her as if she were lower than their cowardice. She hadn't told her king, because she knew he'd ask for too much, but the collar had a secondary purpose.

It prevented anyone from realizing hers was gone.

Some of these fools had seen her at her worst, in her weakest hours, and they knew her as that cultivated shell of herself that Greyfield had so carefully built for their viewing pleasure. It was likely some of them didn't even recognize her. Being at the king's side had nearly completely transformed her, resurrecting her from her broken spirit. She saw it in a few of their eyes though, that spark of recognition followed quickly by confusion.

Would she tell?

Did the king know?

Were they here as allies or as examples?

She was the only one who held those answers and she would never offer them. She wanted to watch everyone squirm as they'd watched her do so many terrible times.

Would she tell the king? Probably not. His temper was hard to control and he had a soft spot for her. He'd only get himself into trouble. Even aside from that, these guests were invited because they did all hold some potential benefit for Alaric. It wouldn't do to completely alienate them from the start.

No harm in toying with them though.

"Delicious breakfast." The sentiment turned her head toward the source, brows coming down as Kuwabara regarded her with a smile. "Thanks for making sure I don't die while I'm here."

"You don't need to thank me for doing my job, Mr. Kuwabara. I want for all of the king's friends to be comfortable and welcome. How are you finding your stay so far? Is there anything I can do to improve upon it?" She offered him a measured smile.

"There is one thing." He winced, rubbing his neck. "Can I take a look at the food that's for me?"

Her back straightened, her smile fizzling out. "Why, was there something wrong with your meal? Did it make you feel ill?"

If these riotous idiots tried to poison _one more damn being_ she was going to lose her mind. She'd dealt with this enough from the last cooks. Her flare in temper must have shone because he held up his hands as if to ward her off.

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's just that, foie gras isn't really my thing. Neither is escargot, actually." His blush tinted his cheeks completely. "I promise I'm not trying to be a picky eater or anything-"

"You do not have to shrink yourself or your demands for me. My job here is to serve, Mr. Kuwabara. If your food isn't to your taste it my responsibility to fix it." She assured him calmly. "I admit, this is entirely my fault. I have very little idea what to feed a human, especially one of your size. I beg you to forgive my ignorance. The foods we had imported were supposed to be the most decadent and royal available from different regions of Human Realm. It seems I made some poor choices."

"They are actually really fancy foods!" He quickly assured her, rushing to speak. "I just don't actually like them. I was wondering if I could just see what you have in store for me. Maybe I can cook my own meals."

She stared at him, mouth falling open in a moment of sheer disbelief and horror. Then she swallowed and righted herself as fast as she could. Carefully, she tried to dissuade him. "Mr. Kuwabara I cannot, in good conscience, allow a guest of the king to cook his own meals. While you are here you are supposed to be treated with the same utmost respect as any other member of royalty."

"Well, if I'm royalty, doesn't that mean you sort of have to let me do what I want?" He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

She opened her mouth again, then glanced to the side where she caught the sound of the king chuckling as he watched her flounder. His expression told her that he felt she had this nightmare coming.

"I will have Benji show you to the kitchen where you will be free to examine our stock and the menus I have prepared. If you feel that your future meals are not going to satisfy you, you'll be welcome to dictate new recipes to the staff." Her urgent promise made him study her.

"I feel weird about making someone else do the work of cooking a new meal just because I complained." He told her sheepishly.

"And yet here we are discussing a new menu." She pointed out. Another snicker made her realize that the king's other friends were nearby listening as well. She kept her voice as level and professional as possible. The king laughed again, though he covered his mouth with his hand to prevent anyone from seeing him fighting the emotion gripping him.

"No, I mean, I feel bad making someone else cook them. I can-"

"Rest assured, Mr. Kuwabara, my staff is highly trained and they are incredibly capable. It would insult them if you were to push them out of the way. They are eager to sharpen their skills in human cuisine." Amon persisted. "They can do whatever you instruct them to do."

"I feel like you're really set on not letting me cook." He finally tipped his head to the side. "Everyone is so busy. I'm pretty sure it'd be more helpful for me to just do it myself rather than teach someone how to do something I already know how to do."

Closing her eyes for a brief pause so she could adequately gather her wit she focused herself. When she once again opened her eyes, it was with a firm resolution. "Mr. Kuwabara, you must understand that you being here is part of a much larger event. We are hosting several dignitaries from several regions. Imagine, if you would, that this castle is a symphony. Every member of staff a musician, every detail an instrument, all designed and trained to work cohesively together to produce something larger than all the parts. This requires cohesion."

"Okay." He furrowed his brow.

"You are the audience to this symphony. Your responsibility is to enjoy, to consume it. I would not ask you to climb on the stage and begin singing without any training, nor would I ask you to rewrite the music when we hit a sour note. You may identify the mistake, and then we will adapt to it." She smiled at him. "None of this hard work is worth anything if you do not enjoy it."

"I understand that." He nodded his head slowly. "Just get me a hot plate and I'll make ramen in my room. It'll make everything easier on everyone, probably."

"What is a hot plate?" She asked him, incredulous.

Yusuke couldn't contain himself any further and burst out laughing. He walked over and clapped a hand on the back of Amon's neck, tugging her closer to him with all the familiarity of someone who had known her for years. The sudden firmness of his grip on her made her stiffen, her eyes flashing wide as the air in her lungs refused to move in or out.

Suddenly she was free, it made her realize how frozen she'd so quickly become at the unwelcome contact.

"Don't do that." Hiei released Yusuke wrist as quickly as he'd grabbed it. His humor had faded significantly in his quick trip from his seat to their congregation. Ruby eyes assessed Amon as she tried to hide the fact she'd been so effected. "Amon, don't let them bully you. Their opinions aren't worth any more than anyone else's."

"I lost my train of thought." She muttered, gathering herself. Shaking off the static that had begun to swim in her limbs. "I'm so sorry, I forgot what I was trying to say."

"Are you okay?" Yusuke reached for her again, only to have his hand pointedly lowered by Hiei once more.

"She doesn't know you. Don't touch her." Hiei informed him quietly. "Don't make a scene about it."

"Sorry." Yusuke made a face. "I didn't realize you were the don't touch me sort of person."

"I remember my question. What is a hot plate?" Amon ignored Yusuke's apology and Hiei's interruption to focus on Kuwabara once more.

"It's like a tiny little single eye of a stove that you can keep in an apartment." He explained, trying to demonstrate the dimensions with his hands. "It would mean I could cook in my room."

"We don't have anything like that." She informed him with a head shake.

"Just let him starve." Hiei suggested with a smirk. "It's not like he needs any extra weight."

"You want to fight?" Kuwabara's quick retaliation earned a sigh from Kurama, who joined them quietly. Hiei tossed out another barb that was answered with a brandished fist.

Amon watched as the other guests meandered out of the hall once their meals were finished. She was thankful, because she was already growing tired. One night of rest was not enough to make up for the sleepless weeks that lurked about her, ready to strike her body and mind at the first sign of weakness on her part. She needed to stay sharp and keep moving. That meant ending this inane conversation as quickly as she could and moving on to her next task.

"Sire, stop being rude to your guests please. It's unbecoming of a monarch to act like a child." Her tone strained as it struggled to remain controlled. He shot her a look. "Mr. Kuwabara, keep that symphony image in your mind please and respect the staff enough to trust them to do their jobs for which they've been thoroughly trained."

"They're more your guests than mine." Hiei pointed out to her with a huff. "I didn't invite them."

"Then be kinder to my guests." She told him dully, a headache threatening to bloom behind her eyes and in her temples.

He seemed to think about it for a moment before shaking his head and baring his teeth in a grin. "No."

"I-" Kuwabara went to argue again and this time Amon held up her right hand to cut him off.

Her tone changed, growing firm as though she were putting her foot down with a child. Her eyes pinched a bit at the corners, but she did not let her actual agitation show.

"No." She told him. "I have orchestrated a very intense and tight schedule on which the entire staff must act if things are to continue flowing smoothly through this event, which I have taken months of my life creating. I am not having that timing altered because you cannot seem to allow my staff to do their jobs. Check the stock, situate the ingredients, give the recipe to the cooks and remove yourself from the kitchen as a personal favor to me lest I go mad upon hearing that your chivalry has caused a backup in meal preparations that ruins my painstakingly arranged time line."

Kuwabara pulled back slightly, eyebrows high on his forehead. Even Yusuke and Kurama leaned back, shooting her looks then glancing to Hiei who looked rightly delighted.

"I understand." Kuwabara nodded to show his agreement. "I won't get in the way."

"For my sake, I hope not." She smiled at him but it was definitely hollow. She glanced at the clock on the wall and then turned to Hiei. "Sire, you wanted to speak with me privately before your first meeting. We should go."

"Meet me in my office. I'll be there shortly." He nodded and she walked away. He waited until she left before turning to the three men who had traveled so far to see him. "Amon's history has not been kind to her. She has certain moments of sensitivity that I need you all to respect."

"She's been abused right?" Yusuke guessed immediately.

Hiei inhaled roughly not wanting to verbalize his affirmation. "It has taken her some time to get where she is, comfort-wise. Don't set her back."

"Yeah. I get it." Yusuke nodded, thumbing toward Kurama. "This guy caught on pretty quick after her reaction to your tantrum yesterday. I guess there are some rumors about her being a slave floating around."

"Well she's not. We don't have slaves in Alaric." Hiei dared any of them to argue with him, eyes narrowed dangerously.

"We will be careful to not put her in any situation where she may be uncomfortable." Kurama promised softly.

"Good. And stop arguing with her. I'll be the one who deals with the fallout if you idiots push her too far." Hiei crossed his arms over his chest. Grumbling he rolled his eyes. "This entire week is already going to be a farce with me playing center stage. I have enough to deal with."

"Isn't this whole party in your honor?" Yusuke deadpanned.

"Partially. It's to memorialize Mukuro." Hiei explained. "Amon's idea. I don't know why, so don't bother asking."

"Right." Kuwabara drawled then looked at the other two. "Well, I guess we better get out of your way _sire_ before you miss your appointment."

"While you're at it, how about you just stay out of my way." Hiei quipped, already beginning to march from the room. Benji stood at the door with a look of expectation, his eyes bright. He was once again dressed up and Hiei knew it was Amon's doing because the child was just not that adept yet. "Did Amon speak to you?"

"Yes." Benji nodded. "I have my orders."

"Stick to them." Hiei told him, then paused so he could lower his voice so avoid being overheard. "Stay close to them if you can Benji. I want to know what they're doing here. I'll ask for a report from you later. Try not to be obvious."

He received a nervous quiver and then a sigh. "Okay, sir."

"Good boy." Hiei offered him a devious smile before directing himself toward his office to face Amon before the day's excuses for diplomacy drained him of all good humor.

* * *

Amon stood in the office, head bowed over a folder she cradled in her hand when Hiei entered. He took a moment to once again observe her ensemble, head to toe, now that his staring wouldn't be commented on ruthlessly by anyone but the woman herself. He actually found the cut of her top flattering. If the chains and cuffs were on anyone else he might have appreciated the artistry in them more, they were extremely well crafted. It definitely made a statement. She'd left the wild, fiery braid untended, apparently accepting that she didn't have time even now to try to tame the mess. He hadn't realized her hair was actually so thick. She always contained it so well in her ponytails and braids. The only time he saw it loose was generally during their sparring sessions, when it was undoubtedly matted with sweat and dirt, and even more rarely after she bathed when it was wet. More often than not though, she only let him see her at her most presentable.

What a ridiculous thing to feel privileged by, he mused to himself. Hair, untamed, of all things.

Though he shouldn't be surprised, Amon seemed to provoke this sort of response from him over the most meager of details.

"What has you so engrossed?" He strolled over to his desk as he asked the question, pulling a key he'd tethered to a leather necklace from his under his shirt. He unlocked the bottom most drawer, reaching in to retrieve the gift he'd purchased that morning.

"An overview of your schedule." She muttered back to him, distracted. "I want to be as familiar as possible with the demons you're meeting with today. It doesn't rightly matter if we gain allies, as you pointed out earlier, but it does matter that we don't unintentionally make enemies. I need to be on my best behavior, at my most knowledgeable."

"And to think, you were going to send me in there alone." He offered her a fond smile she didn't see.

"I will waste a million breathes reiterating that I think you are a capable king." She finally lifted her attention to meet his gaze. Her eyes pinched as they darted to the wooden box on the top of the desk in front of him. "What's that?"

"A gift."

Her brow furrowed. "For who?"

"Guess." He suggested, finding her confusion hilarious. For who, she asked.

"I would like to hope it's for your friends, who traveled a long way to support you." She walked closer to him, the file held closed in her hand. "But I know you're too stubborn for that. For one the guests? Do you know someone here? I hadn't realized. If you tell me who I can make sure they're taken care of as though they were you. Whoever has your attention must of great importance."

"I agree." Hiei stared at her, lips quirked into a smile. "I don't think they'll be accepting of your dedicated attention though. They're just as stubborn as I am."

"They'd have to be." She mumbled under her breath, eyes on the box. "

"Besides, if you were to treat them as you treat me, doesn't that mean you'd attend to them hand-and-foot? I don't like the idea of that." He reminded her. "You're supposed to be my personal attendant."

"I am." She shot him a look. "You wouldn't want me to extend myself to someone so esteemed?"

"What makes you think they're esteemed?"

"You bought them a present." She gestured to the box.

"Is that so strange?" Hiei raised an eyebrow.

"It is when you've never done it before." She pointed out. Then she wrinkled her nose before smoothing her extremely completely into her neutral mask, eyes closed to prevent him from seeing the truth in them. "It's alright if you don't want me to know. Your privacy isn't for me to invade."

"I have to admit, Amon, you're so intelligent that I truly enjoy reveling in your moments of sheer stupidity." Hiei snorted before pushing the box over toward her side of the desk. When she opened her eyes in anger he smirked. "It's for you."

"Me?" Her voice grew small as she moved her attention from his face to the box, reaching for it before retracting her hand. She once again looked at him, her flash of anger completely forgotten.

"Yes, Amon. You." He nodded.

"I don't think I can accept, sir-"

"Hiei." He interjected.

"-I mean, it's inappropriate. You getting me a gift? If I accept I'm abusing your generosity."

"And if you don't you're abusing my patience, of which I have a finite amount." He reminded her.

"Sir."

"Hiei." He once again corrected dully.

Finally she sighed, her posture crumbling slightly. "Hiei, I can't accept this. It would make you look weak to your men and everyone else watching. You cannot dote on me this way."

"Open the box." Hiei demanded with a smirk. "That's an order, Amon."

She continued to stare at him, then the box, then him again, concern radiating from her in palpable waves. He ran his fingers over the edge of the unpainted wood, smooth as it was.

"It's for you. I chose it myself." He allowed his eyes to leave his fingers to scan up to her face slowly. "Because I wanted you to have it. A token of my appreciation and yet something more. A symbol of my own choosing. You can keep marking yourself with collars and chains, Amon, but you'll also bare this gift for the world to see because it's the message I want every being who meets you to understand. If I am your king, then you are my servant and I would not dress you in the vestiges of bondage. I would display your station a little differently."

"So, not a gift. A badge." She finally touched the box gently.

"If that makes it more palatable, then yes." He allowed.

"Thank you." She smiled for him, cautiously. "I will wear it with honor."

"I'm sure. After your done throwing a fit about what it is." He smirked again. "Because I know you well enough to know where this conversation is going to wind up."

Her brow furrowed again, lips puckering slightly but she lifted the lid anyway. Her eyes widened as stillness racked through her form. He counted the twelve seconds it took her to continue breathing.

"No." She told him sternly. "No. We are back to this being unacceptable."

Her hand gestured to the sheathed knife awaiting her, nestled on a bed of velvet. The handle was wrapped in the same style as his sword, though he'd chosen far more delicate materials. Instead of the white leather that covered the ray skin of his hilt, he'd chosen white silk ribbon. A softer hold but not less effective. Where he had a red tie wound over his sword guard, he'd woven a similar line of red through the white silk so that it hung loose near the blade similar to how his strings were. The sheath of the weapon was black leather and he'd chosen the style because it would be the hardest for her to hide.

He didn't want the weapon to be a secret. He wanted everyone to know it was on her person. He wanted anyone who met his Amon to fear her upon sight, to understand her importance and power innately.

She examined the leather sheath with pursed lips.

"It's for your thigh." He informed her easily.

"I am quite aware, thank you." Her tone barely contained her obvious frustration. "What are you thinking? In all seriousness, even you have to know this isn't alright."

"Why?"

"I could use it against you! Servants don't get to be armed, Hiei. That's just basic, common knowledge!" Her voice rose, her hands throwing out to gesture to the wide world that encompassed them.

"Would you?" He asked her.

"Would I what?"

"Use it against me?" He wondered, purposefully removing the weapon from it's protective housing. The shining blue blade matched the absolutely lethal look in her eyes. It was a perfectly balanced, artfully made thing. Expensive, but he knew she'd take care of it. With intention he grabbed her hand and forced the handle of the blade into her grip, closing her fingers around it.

Then he moved her arm so that the tip of the knife pressed to the unprotected hollow of his throat, holding her gaze.

"Don't." She tried to pull away but he didn't allow her to. Amon let the struggle die in case the efforts accidentally injured him. Her voice grew smaller, near to begging. "Don't. Please don't do this."

"You didn't answer me." He informed her plainly, pulling her hand forward slightly so the pressure blade was uncomfortable to him, just a hair away from breaking skin. "Do you intend to kill me, Amon? Would you use this gift to you to slit my throat? If so, do it now. You'll never have such a chance."

"No." She breathed.

"No?" He repeated, unconvinced. "Is now not convenient for you? Would you sneak into my room at night and stab me?"

"This isn't funny." She hissed quietly, her arm trembling in his grasp.

"I'm not laughing." Hiei assured her.

"Let me go."

"Answer me." He demanded without anger. He already knew the answer. He wouldn't have done this otherwise. It was Amon who seemed to need the boost of faith.

"I said no." She reminded him, her eyes growing angry and dark.

He went to open his mouth for another retort but all that left his lips was a gasp, his eyes flashing wide as Amon ripped herself from his hold so easily he could only imagine he hadn't been truly holding her there at all. The blade pressed to the side of his neck, the cloth of his collar protecting his skin from the sharp edge. Amon leaned over him, her other hand bunching in the cloth of his shirt, forcing him to arch back over the desk slightly. Her anger vibrated through the air between them and Hiei swore for a moment he could taste it as his blood rushed through his veins.

"I could." She told him quietly, staring into his eyes in a way that made him wish she was closer to him than she already was.

"Whether or not you could is a far cry less important than whether or not you would." He forced the words to exit his throat, fighting the urge to dip his attention to her mouth.

This nagging attraction was getting worse by the outburst and at this point he didn't know what he could do to save himself.

He did know, though, that his ignorance was willful in this matter.

"I would never." She promised him, shifting ever so slightly to fill up more space in his view. "I would never kill you."

"I know." He assured her.

Amon hesitated to release him. He wasn't in any danger of her knife, but he didn't know that. She'd taken great care with his wardrobe, choosing only the most luxurious and defensive of fabrics. Only the best for her king. The material was impossible to pierce. He didn't realize it, but he was in a walking suit of armor by her design and specification. As if she would take any chance with the rats from the other kingdoms scurrying about.

As if she trusted his life in anyone's hands but her own.

Still frustrated, she retracted.

Hiei took the moment to recover before straightening. "Now that we have that settled, you'll wear the knife."

"I won't." She shook her head. "It's not appropriate."

"You will." He told her, smoothing out the wrinkles she'd created in his shirt. "Because I'm ordering you to. And also because I want to see how it looks on you. Like you said, it's a badge."

"Why?" The strangled question fought to be heard around her frustration.

"Because I want them to quake in fear when they see you coming." He blinked a few times as though she should have known this. "You're my servant, Amon. And my servant wouldn't be a defenseless dog getting the shit beat out of her. You're a fighter, I know that. I want them to know it too."

"Yours." She repeated the word as though she'd never heard it before and lacked understanding of it's meaning.

"Yes." He reiterated, locking eyes with her not sure what to do about the urge he had to lock the door. He was saved from himself by a forceful knocking and a call that someone was waiting for him. It allowed him to redirect his focus. "Put on your badge, Amon. It's time to pretend to care about this political circus you've organized."

Their walk through the halls together was exactly how he'd hoped it would be. All eyes traveled from Amon's thigh to her face, eyes full of confusion and curiosity at the sight to the knife she'd strapped on. She carried herself with extra effort, he noticed, but that was fine. Takeo offered them a particularly irate glare and Hiei pretended not to notice. He'd need to ask Amon about her relationship with the general at some point.

The meetings and greeting were as tedious as he'd imagined they'd be and he was glad she was there because it was her soft hums that corrected his behavior when he started to get too annoyed or bored. And it was her gentle prodding that pushed people from the room when it was time to be done. She prepped him for each new idiot just before they walked through the door and he wondered how she'd planned to have him do this alone when it was so glaringly clear that he needed her there. Between meetings she flitted into the hall and he heard her giving orders or approving changes, offering advice and suggestions.

Finally, they seemed to scrape the bottom of the barrel. There was a quiet reprieve were no one knocked on the door and no one barged in without waiting to be announced. Amon didn't seem in a hurry to hand him any needed information so he suspected he was finally free of his duties.

"You have one more meeting, but it's in town. I'll take you." Amon checked something off in her file of paperwork that she'd been clinging too all day.

He stewed in annoyance at the news.

Hiei grumbled as he rose from his seat and followed her out the castle doors and into the heart of the city. He looked around the rows upon rows of gold light bathed vendors and stalls. All put together for Mukuro, to remember her, to celebrate her. The center of Alaric felt warm and alive, a beating heart. His attention drifted to the woman responsible, absorbing the details of the way the light turned her hair to fire and bathed her skin in healthy warmth. She needed to get outside more, he decided. This reminded him of the way she'd looked as they returned from their visit West.

"I'm not going to pretend to know what happened." Amon told him, her eyes wandering the crowds as they walked. Hiei glanced at her, intrigued by the jarring choice of topic. In that careful, caringly hushed tone she continued, "I wasn't there. I can't absolve your guilt. For all I know you could have saved her, maybe you were supposed to, maybe you weren't even close to being there. What I do know is how it feels to be responsible for a death you could have, should have, prevented. It's excruciating. An agony few others could fathom, and it sticks to your ribs and it burrows in your bones and it eats you from the inside."

Hiei studied her. Her eyes were cool, distant, but he saw the way they pinched at the corners, he noticed the slight waver to her voice that might've been overlooked. Who had she lost, he wondered, that it haunted her so deeply? What a terrible horror they shared.

"You have to let it go." She turned her face to him. "Or at least, you have to start."

"How am I supposed to let it go, Amon? She died. Mukuro should be here ruling this damn territory and she's gone." Hiei felt that ice clawing back up from the pit of his stomach just saying the words out loud made it all feel so fresh. "I can't forget that."

"Don't forget. Never forget her." Amon shook her head. With two fingers she pointed at the center of her chest then at her temple. "Hold onto her forever, and listen to her when she speaks to you. But you still have to let go, not of her, but of that awful pain you carry. You cannot heal if you won't treat your wounds. Of all the demons in the world you should understand that."

He didn't understand though. She was being contradictory again, speaking in roundabout riddles. He stared at her trying to decipher the meaning in her words.

"This grief of yours is another dark beast you must call on and devour. It'll always be with you, somewhere, but you cannot let it be the thing that controls you. You have to let go of your anger toward yourself. You have to swallow it and turn it into something powerful. Make it push you forward, don't allow it to hold you down." Her words held a distant reverie to them and once again she turned her attention to the lines of demons around them. Her chest rose and fell as she looked at something that wasn't there. "No, it'll never go away completely though, will it? The guilt. But still, I think you need to just not let it be the first thing you feel in the morning."

Hiei wondered what she had lost to carve that expression into her face. Just as he was about to ask, he felt the gentle, warm sensation of fingers wrapping around his wrist. He glanced down at the way Amon held onto him so softly, her touch just barely there. Then he felt a thick scrap of paper press into his palm. Her hand slipped away once he gripped the note.

"Go there and have a drink with your friends. Take control of your inner demons." She offered him the smallest, saddest smile he'd ever seen.

"You're not coming?" He asked her, not sure why that bothered him so much.

"You need them." She put a hand on his back and pushed him into the crowd gently. When he turned to grab for her, she was already gone, swallowed by the demons surrounding them.

Hiei waited for a few minutes in that spot for her to reappear before reading the address she'd passed to him. With limited resolve he start walking.

* * *

The castle walls deflected the bright lights and the happy noise of the festival in full swing. Amon drifted through the halls alone, glad for the stone barriers protecting her from warmth she'd been suffocating under outside. This was too familiar, too homelike. Her heart broke in her chest under the glow of the gilded lantern light. She'd been able to look at the king, his visage too radiant for her to stand.

Her room was quiet, cool and dark, the perfect place for her.

Her feet carried her to her bed, the edge of which became her perch.

Festivals and braids and warm food and dancing, these were things that used to make her glow just like her king. They were things she'd looked forward to as a child. For the warmth of this event to strangle her instead of lift her up must just be further proof that her pain was a worthy punishment.

Her eyes assessed her hands bathed in shadows. There was no beautiful light down here, no happy chittering of hundreds of excited voices, no tidal wave of happiness. Just the pain. If all her mistakes had led her here to save someone else from the agony she'd allowed to consume her, then maybe it would balance out her soul a little. Perhaps some, never all, of the blood on her hands could be washed away if she was able to push the king out of his own darkness and back into the light. She'd have to be in the dark behind him to do so, but that's where she lived anyway. There was no reason to pull him further into it with her.

All she could hope was that his friends were honest, loving people. The forgiving type. The accepting type. Everything someone in the king's situation would need if he was ever going to learn to forgive himself. She could not absolve the king of his guilt, but maybe they could.

Oh gods, let them be able.


End file.
